


Ten years On - Callum's Story

by WatMcGregor



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatMcGregor/pseuds/WatMcGregor
Summary: This work just about stands alone, but I'd strongly recommend reading Ten Years On first - the original story from Ben's perspective.Originally a multi-chapter fic but reformatting it to re-post is such a faff that I hope you'll forgive the single post in one big chunk this time around...
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Ten years On - Callum's Story

Chapter 1  
He wakes half-hard, the dream he was having following him into wakefulness at the sound of shouting outside in the Square. He sees from a bleary-eyed glance at the alarm clock that they must be just setting up the market for the day. In his confused state between sleep and waking, he’d imagined it was people shouting in the park he’d dreamt he was in.

Again.

It’s becoming a recurring dream. Nothing for eight or nine years, and now he’s had it three times in the last four months, and it’s becoming more detailed with each repetition.

This time, he’d felt the rough bark of the tree at his back, his shirt pushed up so that his bare skin was scratched and scraped by the wood; his hands clutching at the trunk to anchor himself as he threw his head back and surrendered himself to the wet willing warmth of the mouth of the man on his knees in front of him. It doesn’t mean anything. Turns out, it didn’t mean anything then, either.

He blinks the images out of his head, and turns over in bed. It still surprises him a little, seeing a blond head on the pillow next to his; feeling a hard, muscular body under the covers next to his own. It still feels a little wrong. It’s been a long time since he shared his bed with the same person more than two or three times in a row, but this one seems to have stayed the course so far. Three months and no sign of Callum throwing a wobbly and calling it all off. Stuart would be proud of him.

Alex is snoring lightly with his back to Callum. He stirs as Callum sits up and throws the covers away from his body.

“Time is it?” asks Alex, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Just before five,” says Callum.

He’s answered with a groan.

“I did say I was on an early,” says Callum, swinging round to sit on the edge of the bed. “You shoulda stayed at yours last night.” He reaches over and shuts off the alarm before it can sound at five. “Go back to sleep. You can let yerself out when you’re ready.”

“Mm, on a late today,” says Alex. “Commuter crowd. Got a few new sign-ups to induct.”

“Yeah?” asks Callum. “You’ll be busy then?”

Alex has pulled the covers back over his head. He doesn’t answer.

Callum sighs quietly and heads for the shower to sort himself out in peace. His dream is staying with him, colouring his mood, and he wonders why it’s so difficult to shake it off this morning. He takes himself in hand and finishes off what the dream started, bracing himself with his free hand against the shower wall. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just horny and it’s helping to get him off. It doesn’t matter who was on their knees in his dream, it’s the fact that he dreamt about sex. What can he say? He’s a man. With needs.

Showered and shaved, he has a quick bite of breakfast and then dresses himself in the basics of his uniform. He still feels a little thrill of excitement every time he dons the crisp white shirt and navy trousers, even all these years later.

He wonders what today will bring. It’s going to be a sunny day, and that usually brings out the kids, sitting on street corners drinking cheap lager and getting silly with it. It’s a Friday, which means that yesterday was pay-day for many of Walford’s finest, so that often means busy shopping crowds and the odd altercation that results from too many people being in too small a space at the precinct over on Wolston Street.

Callum wouldn’t have it any other way. He often thinks back to his desk job at Coker’s and wonders how he didn’t go stark-staring mad from the tedium of it all.

He packs the rest of his bits and pieces into a rucksack so he can change into them at the station, and pops back into the bedroom before he leaves to say goodbye to Alex, who’s snoring again. Callum sits on the edge of the bed and tells him he’s off. Alex wakes momentarily, sits up and gives him a brief peck on the lips, and then collapses back against his pillow, eyes still shut.

Callum assumes that means he’s been dismissed. “I’ll text ya,” he says quietly as he leaves. He’s fine with it. He doesn’t want anything passionate and all-consuming. Not right now. Safe and comfortable suits him just fine. And the fact that they rarely get to see each other because of a combination of their shift patterns and Alex’s living arrangements means that the whole relationship demands very little of Callum. He likes it that way.

As he’d predicted, the sunny weather brings out the silliness in the people of Walford. It’s been a long cold winter, so the advent of a little sunshine this early in the year means that people are letting their hair down a bit, getting just a touch more lively and lighthearted, and throwing off the gloom of the winter months. He gives a good talking-to to a kid who’s showing off to his mates, throwing chips at the pigeons outside the offie and hitting a few passers-by in the process. He breaks up a fight between two pensioners, both competing for the same parking space for their mobility scooters at the precinct. He catches up with one of the local repeat offenders, a young lad of about eighteen, known to the entire station for a series of petty crimes that started when he was nine and shows no signs of ending any time soon. The lad has a whole stream of dodgy jokes that keep Callum amused for the rest of his shift.

None of it’s particularly taxing, but Callum loves it. He revels in the conversations, the relationship-building, and the intelligence he gathers about the local area on a day to day basis. He’s in his element. He’s a rank and file police officer; never wanted to work his way up the ladder and never invited to take his sergeant’s exams in any case because he’s seen as a solid neighbourhood bobby in an age when they’re a dying breed. It suits him perfectly.

Clocking off back at the station at the end of his shift, he stays around for a bit of banter with the other lads who’ve just finished shifts. They’re all settled, married for the most part, and up to their eyes in kids and mortgages. They all know he’s gay, but they imagine this means he leads a fabulously exciting life. He hates to disabuse them of the notion, but he knows he’ll be spending the rest of his day cooking up a few meals for the freezer, for when he’s working late shifts, and then probably watching the soaps. Hardly fabulous.

Back at home, he makes himself a cuppa and casts a cursory glance at the note Alex has left for him. He’s not sure he can call him his boyfriend yet, but whatever he is, he’s a man of few words. The note he’s left for Callum comprises of ‘7 😊 x’. Callum rolls his eyes and tosses it to one side. For some reason known only to himself, Alex has taken to numbering their sexual encounters. Last night was the seventh time they’d slept together.

Alex is complicated, and yet uncomplicated at the same time. At the age of thirty-seven he still lives with his parents in a big old house in one of the leafier parts of Walford. His parents, who Callum has yet to meet and doubts he ever will, had been in their forties when Alex was born, and are fiercely religious. For anyone else, these factors might represent insurmountable complications, but they suit Callum pretty well. They mean two, maybe three, things.

one: Alex is still in the closet,

two: Alex is rarely available for sex, and

two (b): Alex is conservative in his sexual tastes to the extreme.

None of which particularly bother Callum. He’s had passion and sexual inventiveness, and it had just ended up devastating him, so he’s perfectly happy to go with the flow where Alex is concerned, although he does have hopes of supporting him through his journey out of the closet, like Ben -.

Like Callum was supported in his time.

He finishes his cup of tea and crosses to throw the message into the bin, then makes a start on his cooking. He’s just browning off some beef for a casserole when there’s a knock on the door. Opening it, he finds Stuart, looking agitated and sweating profusely from the warmth of the day. He’s carrying a take-out coffee from the Bridge Street caff.

“Bruv,” says Stuart. “Sit down.”

Callum frowns at him. “What?”

Stuart wafts him in the direction of the kitchen table. “Sit down.”

“I don’t wanna sit down,” says Callum. “I’m in the middle of doin’ some cookin’.”

Stuart gives him a look as if he thinks he’s making a big mistake. Callum rolls his eyes and crosses back to the stove to make sure his meat isn’t burning.

“He’s back,” says Stuart, ominously. “Mitchell. I’ve just seen him in the caff, bold as ya like.”

Callum’s shoulders tighten, but he carries on prodding at the meat in the frying pan with his spatula. “Well,” he says, modulating his tone. “We knew it was gonna happen sometime soon.”

“But lordin’ it up in the caff, like we should all be pleased he’s back!” says Stuart, sounding outraged.

Callum wonders if Ben was doing any such thing, although he supposes he wouldn’t put it past him. He remembers what Ben was like years ago when he’d returned from a long stay up-country. When Callum had met him for the first time. He wasn’t exactly shy and retiring then. “Where else would he go?” he asks. “It’s where his mum works.” He continues to prod at the frying meat, scraping obsessively at the bottom of the pan to remove the residue.

“I nearly decked ‘im,” says Stuart. “After what he put you through - ”

“It was ten years ago, Stu. If I can move on, I’m pretty sure you can. Just let it go.”

Behind him, Callum hears Stuart take a sharp intake of breath. “Seriously. That’s it? That’s all you gotta say about it?”

Callum turns to face him, and shrugs his shoulders. “What else d’ya want me to say? It didn’t work out. We went our separate ways and that’s all there is to it!”

“But you ain’t over it,” Stuart states.

“I am,” insists Callum.

“You -”

“I am!” he repeats. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got stuff to do.” He stares Stuart down until he reluctantly makes his way to the door.

Before he leaves, the older man says, “If you need someone to talk to, bruv, you - ”

“Yeah, I know where you are.”

“How’s Alex?” asks Stuart, stalling for time.

“Alex is fine.”

“You’ve got a good’un there,” says Stuart. “Don’t mess it up.” He gives Callum a significant look. Callum folds his arms tight and stares hard at Stuart until he leaves, pulling the door shut behind himself.

Alone again, Callum takes a few deep breaths. Perhaps he hadn’t been strictly truthful with Stuart. He isn’t over the split with Ben, but not in the way Stuart means. Callum isn’t heartbroken anymore. He’s just angry. He’s moved on with a new man, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still be angry at the way Ben tossed him aside, after all the support he’d given him throughout the trial and on into prison. He doesn’t think that anger will ever subside. And if it doesn’t, it’s a good thing. It will help him to guard against ever being taken for a mug again.

He sighs, then turns back to his cooking. Cursing, he realises that the meat has burnt, and throws the spatula down in disgust.

Chapter 2

It seems there are people queueing up to tell him that his former lover is back. He bumps into Whitney outside the Vic the next morning, and she puts a solicitous hand on his arm. “You know he’s back? Ben?”

He tries hard not to roll his eyes. It seems everyone’s expecting him to break at the news. “I had heard, Whit, yeah.”

“I bumped into him yesterday. Still as arrogant as ever.”

“Well, Ben’s Ben, ain’t he?” observes Callum, wanting to shut the conversation down. “How’re those two lads of yours?”

She blows her hair out of her eyes with a puff of her bottom lip. “Full of beans, as ever. They’re at footie club right now, which is why I’ve got ten minutes to meself. Fancy a drink in the caff?”

He hesitates, and she sees through him instantly. “It’s alright, Kathy ain’t working, so you-know-who won’t be in.”

“Yeah, go on then. Just a quick one.”

He’d leant on Whitney a lot when the split happened, until he realised that it just wasn’t fair of him, expecting her to support him over his relationship problems with the man he’d left her for. She’d had a front-row seat for all the angst, though, and it had only cemented the opinion of Ben Mitchell she’d already formed for herself.

If he’s honest, he still feels like there’s something he missed about the whole episode with Ben. He was the first man since Chris that Callum had felt a real connection with, and he’d felt it to be genuine. But once Ben had got into prison, he’d changed into the callous, sarcastic hardman Callum knew him to be with other people, so Callum was left wondering which was the true Ben Mitchell.

As time had gone on, he’d concluded that the Ben he knew, the fun-loving, soft, caring man, was the fake. Hell, he’d seen him picking up men often enough before they got together to know that he could turn on the charm when it meant he might be rewarded with sex, and so he’d reached the conclusion that Ben had just been keeping him sweet for as long as he needed to. Faced with a building full of captive men, at least ten per cent of whom might want to have sex with him (twenty to thirty per cent with a little persuasion and no other options available) Ben had decided there was nothing to be gained by holding onto Callum and dumped him at the first opportunity.

Callum had built up a water-tight narrative about what had happened that was supported by the callous way in which Ben had delighted in telling him about all the sex he was having, and sticking to his story had helped him move on, even if, for a very long time, a very small voice inside him said that he still wasn’t quite sure that he fully believed it. What mattered was that other people did. Others, like Whitney and Stuart, who were less gullible and less likely to try and see the good in everyone. If they were convinced that Ben Mitchell was a wrong’un, perhaps it was Callum who was mistaken, and perhaps the fact that, even in the midst of all his torment, he’d still desperately hoped for a tiny glimpse of good in Ben meant that he was the fool.

He’d obsessed about it; tied himself in knots trying to reconcile the Ben he’d loved with the man he’d left in prison, but never got anywhere nearer an alternative explanation, and as the years had worn on, he’d come to accept it. There were some people who were bad. It was as simple as that, and no amount of love you could give them changed it. And as his heartache subsided, so his anger grew so that now, there was a hard shell around him when it came to Ben Mitchell that no one would ever crack.

“You’re quiet,” says Whitney, nudging him with her elbow when they reach the café and are staring up at the drinks options.

“Just thinkin’,” he says, blinking back to the moment.

She gives him a sympathetic look. “About him?”

“Why would I be thinkin’ about him, Whit? He’s ancient history.”

“You sure? Cappucino?”

He nods and crosses over to one of the tables. There are a few free, but he chooses the one in the corner that faces the door whilst being slightly concealed from anyone coming in; not too far from the exit that he can’t make a quick getaway if he needs to. It’s his police training kicking in: maximise your surveillance opportunities and ensure you’re prepared for all eventualities.

“It’s OK to admit it,” continues Whitney as she joins him at the table with their drinks. “We all get hung up on our first.”

Callum rubs his face with his hands. If he’d known Ben Mitchell was going to take up so much of his attention today, he’d have stayed in bed. “He weren’t my first though, was he Whit?” he asks, knowing he’s being a bit unkind.

“Yeah, but I didn’t count,” she says, unconcerned. “He was your first real, proper relationship. You loved ‘im.”

“Did I?”

“Well, didn’t ya?” She looks at him with a mixture of kindly curiosity and confusion.

He shrugs. “I don’t think I ever really even knew him.”

“No…”

He’s a little annoyed at Whitney’s readiness to agree with him. Even now, there’s a tiny part of him that wants people to prove to him in forensic detail why he’s wrong about Ben; a tiny voice that refuses to be silenced, telling him that he couldn’t have been such a poor judge of character. There was a time, back when it all happened, when he obsessed over every conversation, every interaction they’d ever had, trying to work it all out. He hasn’t done it for years, but it seems just the mention of Ben being out of prison has catapulted his brain back to that treadmill of evidence-seeking, hypothesis-forming, case-building. He’d slept badly last night because of it, and he’s tired and weary. He needs a distraction. “Tell me about the kids,” he says to Whitney.

She’s been watching him carefully over the rim of her coffee cup. Now, she leans forward and puts a hand on his. “Don’t let him mess you up again.”

He frowns and shakes his head, as if he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and she changes the subject, telling him that Jaden and Tyler have been asking after him.

“They put together that Scalextric track yet?” he asks, suddenly more lively again at mention of the kids.

“Nah, think they could do with some help, to be honest.”

“Well, I’ll pop round sometime then, give ‘em a hand.”

She grins at him. “Look at you, favourite uncle to half the kids in Walford!

He dips his head self-deprecatingly. “Hardly. Just your two and Will and Lexi.”

“That gonna be awkward, now Ben’s out?” she asks.

He takes a sip of his coffee. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposes he’s going to have to take a back seat for the time being, at least. God knows how it’ll pan out in the longer term, but he does know that he loves both kids like they’re his own, and stopping contact would kill him, never mind what may or may not be going on with Ben.

“You’ve been a better dad to Lexi than Ben Mitchell ever has,” says Whitney, nodding her head to emphasise her point.

He objects, feeling uncomfortable. “S’ hard to be a good dad if yer banged up though, ain’ it?” he says, surprised at the ease with which he jumps to defend Ben. He tries to avoid the appraising look Whitney is giving him.

“Just don’t let him push you out, alright?” she says. “Listen, why dontcha come round for your lunch tomorrow? No idea what we’re havin’ yet.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” says Callum, feeling that being with other people is exactly what he needs this weekend.

“Thought I’d head off round the back of Tesco, have a rummage through the skips,” says Whitney with a cheeky grin. “They’re bound to be throwing out some meat that’s only just past its sell-by date.”

Callum grins back at her. “Lovely, just what I fancied for Sunday lunch. Failin’ that, I’m sure we can get hold of some roadkill from somewhere.”

She heads off soon after to pick up the kids, and Callum lingers a little longer, finishing up his drink and scrolling through his phone. He keeps one eye on the door, just in case. He texts Alex, asking him if he wants to meet up in the Albert that evening, and gets the usual brief response. Y. GREAT C U LATER X.

He’s just thinking about making a move when Kathy comes into the café. He scopes out his surroundings and tries to work out if he can make a quick getaway before she sees him. She disappears out the back behind the counter and re-emerges almost immediately tying her apron around her waist. She spots him straight away and heads over to his table. He curses to himself, but pastes a smile on his face.

“Callum! How are ya darlin’?”

“Yeah, good thanks, Mrs B.” She never had persuaded him to call her Kathy. It had pretty much become a joke between them, back in the day, and ‘Mrs B’ had become his pet name for her.

She smiles now as he says it. “ ’nother drink?”

“Nah, ta. Gotta get on.”

“OK.” She hesitates for a few seconds, and then sits opposite him. “You know Ben’s out?”

“Yeah, yeah. Stuart told me.”

“Oh. Course.” She fiddles with the empty sugar sachet Whitney had left on the table. “You OK with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” asks Callum with a frown. And what difference would it make anyway? his brain adds.

“Well, I know it all got a bit…upsettin’, didn’t it?” She fidgets nervously. “I mean, I wouldn’t want ya to think you’re not welcome round Lexi any more. You are still comin’ to her birthday do, ain’t ya?”

Callum thinks quickly. A whole evening in Ben’s company is going to be awkward. “Well, yeah but... I’ve got plans that evenin’. With Alex. But I can pop in for a few minutes.”

She looks reassured, and reaches over the table to pat his hand. “Good, I’m glad. We all need to get along, don’t we? For the sake of the kids, if nothin’ else.”

Callum really hopes she’s not implying he might make a fuss. Of him and Ben, he knows who he’d put money on having a diva strop. Immediately, he feels bad for his irritation. He’s just tired.

“Callum, d’ya think..?” Kathy tails off. “I mean, Ben needs some friends now he’s out…”

Callum stands up. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen, is it Mrs B?” He tries to soften his words with a faint smile, but gets the impression from the way she stands up too and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze that it comes out sadder than he’d intended.

“I’ve gotta get on,” he says. “Nice to see ya though.”

The Albert that night is as busy as he’s ever known it - probably something about the sunshine bringing everybody out - and the crowd spills out of the door and over the pavement. Callum and Alex find a couple of seats at a corner table inside and spend the evening catching up on everything that’s happened since they last saw each other. Callum tells him about his shift the previous day, and about his coffee with Whitney. He refrains from mentioning anything about Ben. Alex is full of a new registration at the gym, a middle-aged woman who’d told him in great detail the ins and outs of her recent divorce and then tried to tip him at the end of her gym induction. Alex comes alive when he talks. He’s a great mimic, and has Callum laughing hard at his impressions of the woman.

As he watches him talk, Callum can almost imagine he might fall in love with him one day. At a break in Alex’s story, Callum leans over and kisses him on the mouth.

Alex looks surprised. “What was that for?”

“Just cos I felt like it,” says Callum. “You’re pretty when you’re laughing.”

Alex snorts. “ ‘ Pretty’? OK then.”

“Don’t go away,” says Callum, standing up and heading for the toilets. He’s feeling better than he has all weekend so far, really mellow. A couple of pints have set his mind at ease, and spending time with Alex when he’s in a good mood is great, plus he also has the prospect of lunch with Whitney and two of his favourite boys tomorrow. His brain has finally stopped working overtime. He smiles to himself as he wends his way through the crowded bar.

As he pushes the door open, the silence of the toilets is stark in contrast with the noise of the bar. Silence except for quiet moaning and lip-smacking noises coming from the couple in there who are copping off.

In the mirror, Callum makes eye contact with the man being crowded against the wall and his heart feels like it’s suddenly been filled with ice. It’s him. Ben. He looks debauched, desperate for whatever the other bloke’s doing to him, and Callum’s right back in that prison visiting room ten years ago, trying broken-heartedly to understand why his world’s just caved in around him.

He turns and heads back to Alex, pushing his way blindly through the crowd.

“Let’s go back to mine,” he says when he gets back to their table, bending down to make sure Alex hears him. A slight frown appears on Alex’s face, but Callum strides away without looking back to see if he’s following.

Once outside, he waits for Alex to catch up, breathing heavily and blinking back tears.

“You’re in a hurry all of a sudden,” says Alex, shrugging on his jacket as he gets to him.

Callum smiles brightly, then pushes him against the wall and kisses him hard, to a few jeers and wolf-whistles from the other punters.

“Course,” he says. “Wanna get you in my bed.”

He takes Alex by the hand and leads him away.

Chapter 3

He has a problem. In the cold light of morning, he can freely admit it.

Since seeing Ben in the Albert last night, he’s been walking round in a state of permanent semi-arousal, so to speak. Mentally at least, if not physically.

He’d dragged Alex back to the flat last night and gone down on him before he’d scarcely taken his jacket off. He would have gone further, but Alex had stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “What’s got into you, Callum?” he’d asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Nothin,’ ” Callum had assured him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then wrangling Alex’s jeans further down his thighs. “Just wanna good evening with ya, that’s all. Wanna fuck ya.”

He’d recommenced trying to get Alex out of his clothes, but the other man had pushed him away, staring at him as if he was out of his mind. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

“Come on Alex, just try. You never know, ya might like it.”

Callum had tried his best puppy dog eyes on him, but Alex had stood up and started dressing himself again. “Listen, I’m gonna go home. You’re being weird.”

Callum had scoffed. “I’M being weird? I’m not the one who never wants to have sex.”

“We do have sex,” Alex had said, in a prim voice. “We just don’t do anything that would make either of us feel uncomfortable. I thought you were OK with that.” He’d headed for the door. “We probably need to talk about what’s happening here, but not tonight. It’s late. Just…” He’d shrugged. “Just go to bed, Callum.”

He’d left Callum sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space and feeling like the world’s biggest bastard. If Callum was being honest with himself, he’d known exactly what was happening. Just the sight of Ben had his treacherous body reacting in the way it always had done.

If there was one thing he could still admit to himself without feeling like he was somehow betraying his heartbreak, it was that he’d always found Ben incredibly sexy. There was something about his swagger; something about the cocksure way he carried himself, that had always been Callum’s weak spot once he’d allowed himself to be attracted to masculinity, and seeing him like that tonight, desperate and needy yet still controlling his own experience in the arms of another man, had been a huge turn-on as much as it had been heart-breaking all over again. Callum knows how fucked up that is.

When they’d split, Callum’s heart had taken a long time to deal with the loss, but so too had his body. He’d experienced a physical ache that had almost been too much to bear, and now it seemed that that ache had never been cured. It had just lain dormant for as long as he could put the younger man out of his mind. Now it was rearing its head again with a vengeance, and Callum lay awake that night until the early hours, only falling asleep after three self-administered orgasms that left him hating himself.

He wonders if he could confide in Whitney, but decides against it, on the grounds that discussing his lust for his ex-boyfriend with his ex-girlfriend is just a step too weird even for him.

He can see from the sad smile she gives him that she’s noticed immediately that something’s wrong anyway when he turns up for Sunday lunch. She’s kind enough not to pry, though, and just gives him a big hug and ushers him through to the living room where the boys are ready for him to help with race-track construction.

He spends an enjoyably boisterous hour helping them out before lunch, and after lunch helps Whitney with the washing up, letting out a relaxing breath now that the boys have gone back to the living room and the kitchen is a bit more peaceful.

“I dunno how you put up with all the noise all the time,” he says, picking up a plate from the draining board to wipe it dry.

“Just block it out after a while,” says Whitney, up to her elbows in soap suds. “D’you know what? On a good day I can do me stall accounts in me head while they’re havin’ a full-on barney. There’s not many men could say the same.”

He grins at her. “You’re such a trooper, Whit. Such skills!”

Her dimples show as she smiles. She has a hardened look about her these days, the product of a harsh life trying to make ends meet, but when she smiles, her whole face softens and lights up. She rinses a couple more plates, and then clears her throat. “So, what’s up with you?”

It doesn’t sound like a general enquiry. Nevertheless, he’s reluctant to tell her the truth. “Nothin’ much.”

“Nothin’ much?” She turns from the sink and stares hard at him. “OK, I’m gonna hazard a guess here. Tell me if I’m warm. You’ve seen Ben, yeah?”

It crosses his mind to deny it, but he’s pretty sure she would see right through him.

“You’ve got that moony look on your face,” she says. “Had it all through lunch, an’ all.”

He hesitates, trying to come up with a non-committal response. He takes a deep breath, and then out it comes anyway. “I still really fancy him, Whit.”

She takes pity on him, and grabs the tea towel from him to dry her hands. Laying a hand on his arm, she guides him back to the kitchen table and they both sit down. “Well, of course ya do,” she says, and he’s pathetically relieved that she isn’t laughing at him or recoiling in horror. “You were in love with him. You lived with him. It’s like…like muscle memory, ain’t it? Yer body don’t just switch off just cos he was a bastard.”

“But it’s bin ten years!” he exclaims, frustrated.

She sits forward in her seat, about to impart a confidence. “I still day-dream about Leo sometimes. How messed up is that?”

Callum has to admit that lusting after the son of your abuser who stalked you while pretending to be someone else is probably a little more fucked up than his current dilemma, but it doesn’t really help the situation.

“What can I do?” he asks. “I just feel so confused.”

Whitney breathes a deep sigh. “OK, here’s what I think, yeah? You can have two different reactions to someone. It’s yer heart and yer head, ain’t it? Yer head’s tellin’ you you’re better off without him, and yer heart’s just taking a bit of time to catch up.”

Callum shifts awkwardly. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s me heart we’re talkin’ about here, Whit.”

“OK, so some other organ, then. Same principle.” She smiles, her dimples showing again, and Callum thanks the universe that he has such an understanding friend. “You gonna see him again any time soon?”

He sighs. “I said I’d drop into Lexi’s birthday party on Thursday.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah.”

She stands and goes back to the sink to finish off the washing up. After a moment, she says, “Well, ‘s long as you don’t try an’ shag him on the buffet table you’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, I’ll try and remember that,” says Callum, rolling his eyes.

“It will get better,” says Whitney. “The more you’re around him, the more you’ll remember what a monumental tosser he is, and then – voila! – problem solved.”

Callum resumes drying the plates. He knows she’s right. He might still fancy Ben, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like him.

Chapter 4

Callum needs to get Ben out of his head before he goes mad. In an act of self-preservation, he texts Alex later that day to apologise for his behaviour the night before. He suggests a date on Thursday night, a meal at Alex’s favourite restaurant. The suggestion serves a dual purpose. He can apologise to Alex and get them back on-track, and he will also have an excuse not to stay long at Lexi’s birthday party.

He dresses with particular care that Thursday evening, choosing his favourite shirt and a decent pair of jeans that are Alex’s favourites on him. He’s dressing to get Alex back on-side. Absolutely not for any other reason. Well, maybe a petty side of him is also dressing to show Ben Mitchell what he gave up, but that’s neither here nor there, and if anyone calls him out on it, he’ll deny it to his dying breath.

He’s nervous. He paces as he waits at the bus stop for Alex. They’d had a brief text exchange about his behaviour after the Albert, but he knows they need to have a proper sit-down talk. That’s why he’s nervous. Not for any other reason.

When Alex arrives, he turns his face to the side when Callum tries to give him a peck on the lips, and answers Callum’s enquiries about his day with terse, one-word answers.

“Look,” says Callum. “I’ve gotta get this birthday do out the way, and then we’ve got a table reservation for 8. We’ll talk properly then, yeah?” He reaches out and brushes Alex’s hair behind his ear. “I am sorry. I was a bit of an idiot on Saturday.”

“Yeah, you were,” says Alex, but his face is softening and Callum’s got a feeling it’s going to be OK between them. He leads them to the flat above the salon where Lola and Jay now live with Lexi and Will, their youngest, and presses the buzzer, taking a few deep breaths as he waits for it to be answered. They’re buzzed in, and as they reach the open door of the flat, they’re greeted by Lola. It seems they’re some of the last to arrive. There’s a buzz of conversation coming from inside the flat, and Callum feels for an instant as if he’s going to be sick. He’d give anything to turn around and head straight back down the stairs again.

As ever, though, Lola’s genuinely pleased to see them, and it puts him at his ease slightly. They follow her through to the living room, and Callum quickly scopes out the people there. Ben is conspicuous by his absence, and Callum relaxes a little. Maybe he decided to give it a miss. Although, Callum can’t imagine he’d miss his own daughter’s birthday. Would he?

Lola makes introductions all round for the benefit of Alex, and then Callum becomes aware that Ben and Jay have come into the room.

It’s like a scene from a romantic movie. The crowd parts and there he is, looking pale and nervous, at the far side of the room in the space left as everyone steps aside. Everyone else fades from view, and Callum takes a good long look at him. He looks a little unsure, which is definitely not typical Ben – he’d normally brazen out any awkward situation with false bravado. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up because everyone’s staring at the pair of them like their encounter is something out of a soap opera. He looks a little broken, too, after so long in prison, or is that just something Callum imagines? As Ben nods a greeting at Callum, Callum can feel himself start to feel sorry for the man, and that’s a dangerous state of mind to be in. He snaps himself out of it, and says briefly, “Hi Ben,” sliding his gaze away from the other man. He’s glad that his voice sounds reasonably steady.

Alex steps alongside Callum and introduces himself, placing a proprietary hand on Callum’s back. As Callum glances across at Ben again he thinks he sees a flicker of annoyance flash across Ben’s face. He must have imagined it. Of course he did. Wishful thinking.

There’s a long silence. Callum hears someone snigger, and then Lexi, bless her, saves the day by announcing that she’s going to start opening her presents now that Callum’s arrived. He snaps back into the moment and remembers his manners, handing her his present and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She’s turned into a lovely young lady, and he hopes Ben’s proud of her. He hopes he realises how lucky he is.

“Whatcha gonna open first, Lex?” asks Lola.

Lexi is squeezing and prodding at a large, well-wrapped present that she’s fished out from the bottom of the pile. “Dad’s,” she says. “What is it? It’s big. And squishy.”

“If only there was some way of getting that paper out the way so you could find out,” says Ian, chortling to himself.

Lexi squeals as she unwraps the jacket Ben’s bought her, and then bounds across to Ben to give him a massive hug. “Dad! I love it! Thank you so much.”

“No trouble, princess,” he says. “I hope it’s the one you wanted.”

“It is! It’s perfect.”

It must have cost a packet. Callum watches as Ben buries his face in her hair. “Nothing less for my baby. Happy birthday gorgeous.”

See, that’s what Callum can’t fathom. It’s the circle that he just can’t square. Occasionally, just when you least expect it, you see the caring side of Ben. He is capable of love, which is what makes his behaviour when he went into prison all the more confusing. He is capable of love. But he’s also capable of hurting those around him to the extreme. Callum wasn’t just hurt at the time. He was devastated, and he still can’t work out where the behaviour that caused it came from.

As Ben steps back from the hug with Lexi, he catches Callum’s eye. He quickly looks through him, giving nothing away.

Lexi returns to the couch to unwrap the rest of her presents, and when the entire opening ceremony is finished, everyone mills around, drinking, nibbling on snacks and chatting.

Jay comes over and slaps Callum on the back. “Alright mate? This weird enough for ya?”

Callum gives him a sidelong look. “Not weird. It’s fine.”

He sees that Jay’s looking disbelieving, and shrugs. “It is what it is, ain’t it?”

“It certainly is that,” says Jay, wandering off in search of food.

Callum wonders if he should bite the bullet and go and speak to Ben, get it out the way, but Ben seems perfectly happy to pretend he’s not there, chatting away to Bobby and Will. If he’s not bothered, Callum’s not going to make himself seem desperate. Maybe Ben isn’t even pretending. Maybe Callum just doesn’t register on his radar at all any more. Ben was the one who dumped him, so why would he be bothered? As far as he’s concerned, Callum is just an ex. Nobody special. Callum begins to see that he’s built up this whole story in his mind; this whole drama where he’s been second-guessing what Ben might be thinking when the truth is, Ben isn’t thinking about him at all. To Ben, Callum’s ancient history.

Callum sighs, and tells himself to get over it. He’s got Alex now, in any case. He should be working on making things right between them. He glances over at him. He’s now in conversation with Ian. Somehow, of the entire Beale family, Ian is the one he gets on with best, and Callum’s not sure he wants to reflect on what that says about his boyfriend. He can admit though that Alex is more than decent-looking. He’s landed on his feet with him. There’s a lot of men would be jealous.

Callum has a little chat with Lexi, who’s keen to make sure he’ll still call round, even though Ben’s back in the picture. He assures her that he will, and then she zips off to chat to Bobby’s girlfriend and he realises, with a jolt of his heart, that he’s ended up next to Ben, who is standing on his own taking quick sips of his beer.

They stand together but still apart, drinking awkwardly and watching the rest of the room. Callum tries out a few conversational starters in his head but they all sound lame. Eventually, he decides to go with the flow and turns to face Ben. “You’re out, then.”

He curses himself for stating the obvious, but if Ben finds his comment ridiculous, he’s got the good grace to hide it well. “I am,” he agrees.

“How ya finding it?”

“It’s hard,” says Ben. “Big adjustment.” His voice is flat, non-committal. He seems subdued, not at all the life and soul of the party he used to be.

Callum nods absently, his mind a little blown at the fact that he’s finally talking to him. He concentrates on holding a conversation like a normal human being, instead of flinging himself at Ben’s feet and begging him to tell him that he’s missed him, like he really wants to do.

There’s a long, awkward silence between them, then Ben waves his drink in the direction of Alex. “Your boyfriend seems nice.”

“He is,” says Callum, glad that Ben’s being civil, but ridiculously gutted that he’s not fighting Alex to the death for Callum’s hand in marriage. Ben truly is over him, clearly. Callum doesn’t know why he didn’t accept this fact before. He reminds himself that he’s moved on too. He’s making a go of things with Alex. He’s lucky to have him. “He’s lovely,” he adds. We’re really happy together. Think I mighta found the one.”

“Good,” says Ben. “That’s…good. I’m pleased for ya.”

“Yeah, he owns the gym in Bridge Street,” continues Callum. “We’re thinking we might move in together soon.” He mentally kicks himself. Where the hell did that come from?

“Yeah? How long you been together?” asks Ben, sounding like he’s making a polite enquiry about the weather. Not sounding heartbroken that he’s lost Callum for good.

Callum shifts awkwardly. “Well, only three or four months. But when you know, you know, dontcha?”

“I guess so,” agrees Ben.

There’s another long pause, during which Callum sees that Lexi, Lola and Kathy are all keeping anxious eyes on the pair of them from various parts of the room.

“And how’s the policing?” Ben asks eventually.

Callum comes alive at the question, turning more fully towards him and beginning to wax lyrical about his job. “Best thing I ever did, joining the force. It’s challenging, yeah, and there’s a lot of people got a real problem with us -”.

He pauses for a second, realising who he’s talking to. “But…but on the good days you really feel like you’re makin’ a difference.”

“Sounds like you’ve landed on yer feet, then,” says Ben. “I’m pleased for ya.”

He sounds genuine, and Callum smiles at him then, a real, honest smile. It feels like a conversation between the old them. The Ben and Callum that ‘got’ each other. He begins to think that maybe they could get back on-track, given time, and he starts to warm to the man in front of him again; starts to put all thoughts of how callous he can be out of his head.

But as his eyes slide down to Ben’s neck, he sees a poorly-concealed love bite there, and he’s transported back to the club toilets the previous weekend. Ben looking needy and desperate in the arms of some random. The smile fades from his face.

“Right, well,” he says. “Me n Alex, we was only supposed to stay for half an hour. We’re out on a date tonight.” He takes a step away from Ben. “Better make a move.”

“Have a good night then, mate,” says Ben, but Callum turns away from him without a response, hiding the bitterness on his face that’s been caused by that one word. Mate…

Chapter 5

Ten Years Earlier…

Callum waits with a sundry assortment of wives and kids in the holding lobby between two sets of doors. He feels out of place, the only man visiting a loved one in the prison, but there’s no way he would ever give up this monthly chance to see Ben. It’s the second time he’s been in. It’s still all a bit raw and unreal, Ben only having been sent down ten weeks ago. For a couple of days, they hadn’t even known which prison he’d been sent to. Callum’s thankful it’s one on the outskirts of London. He’s heard horror stories of people having to make ten or twelve-hour round trips every couple of weeks to see their loved ones who’ve been sent to one of the prisons up north.

The prison officers carry out some last-minute paperwork checks, and then the second of the sets of doors is released with an electronic buzz and they’re escorted through and along the corridor to the visiting room.

It’s already half-full of prisoners, all wearing tabards to identify them as such, and all seated on the far side of the rows of tables that stretch the length of the room, facing the incoming visitors. The room is bare and utilitarian, and the cacophony of a hundred or so people greeting each other after time apart echoes off the breeze-block walls. A couple of kids cry, and a baby wails at an ear-splitting pitch.

Callum spots Ben slouching in his seat a couple of rows from the far end and hurries towards him, a big beam on his face. He doesn’t care who knows he’s here to see the man he loves. He’s proud to say he loves Ben, no matter what he’s done. He checks him over as he approaches him. He looks OK. No cuts or bruises, so the other prisoners must be leaving him alone. Callum breathes a sigh of relief. He remembers Ben telling him about how he was bullied and beaten regularly the last time he was inside, and he couldn’t bear it if that happened again. A ten-year stretch is a long time to endure that kind of torment, and a long time to spend worried sick about someone on the inside. Maybe with Ben that much bigger now he can better take care of himself. God knows he’s handy enough with his fists. That’s what got him into this mess in the first place.

“Y’alright?” Callum asks as he reaches Ben’s table. He hesitates before he sits down, wanting Ben to stand up so he can kiss him across the table, but Ben remains slouched back in his seat, hands shoved in his trouser pockets.

“Peachy, Cal,” he says. His eyes are like flint. He’s got his hard man act going on. Callum supposes that’s the way he gets through each day, but he wishes he would drop it now. He doesn’t have to act with Callum. He never did.

“Thought we was never gonna get through,” he says, sitting down opposite Ben. “They took ages on the paperwork today.”

Ben nods, looking bored. There’s something wrong. Callum frowns a little. He studies Ben’s face, trying to work out what’s going on for him. “Oh! I nearly forgot!” he says after a few seconds. “Jay said you was wanting cigarettes brought in for ya. Somethin’ about using ‘em for trading? I’ve left a box on the gate for ya.”

Ben’s expression changes imperceptibly. For a split second Callum sees what looks like pain, or maybe even panic, flash in the younger man’s eyes.

“No!” he exclaims. “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t want ‘em.”

“It’s no trouble,” says Callum, smiling. “They’re bleedin’ expensive these days, ain’t they, but I don’t mind if it helps ya.”

Ben sits forward. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t want ‘em off you. Take ‘em home with ya.”

“Don’t be da - ”

“Take. Them. Home.”

Callum is taken aback by the cold ferocity of Ben’s tone. He stares at him in dismay, “What’s got into ya, Ben?”

“You ain’t listening to me!” Ben slams his hand down on the table in front of him, causing two prison officers to approach. He glances sideways at them and lowers his voice. “I don’t want you buyin’ me ciggies, alright? Jay can do it, but not you. I don’t want anything off you.”

The officers watch the pair of them for a few seconds and then wander off to resume patrolling the aisles between the tables. Callum bites back the retort he was about to make. He takes a breath, and says instead. “You don’t want anything off me? Ben, I’m your boyfriend!”

“Not anymore,” snaps Ben. “Not anymore.” His eyes are hard and his lips tight. He gives Callum a level stare, and Callum’s heart turns icy.

“What?” he asks in a whisper.

Ben resumes slouching in his seat. A distant look comes into his eyes. “I tell you about my cell-mate the last time you was in?”

Callum is confused by the sudden change of topic. He shakes his head silently, scrutinising Ben’s face for a sign that he’s going to tell him he was joking.

“Stacked,” says Ben. “Stacked and hung, you know what I mean?”

The ice around Callum’s heart is only getting thicker. “Ben I -”

“Should pass the time no trouble while I’m in ‘ere,” continues Ben. “What he can do with his mouth is nobody’s business. I’m tellin’ ya mate, I fell on me feet this time.”

“ ‘Mate’?” whispers Callum.

“Ten years in a cell with that hunk o’ spunk, I’m sorted, I’m tellin’ ya. Should hardly be able to walk by the time I’m released.” He grins grotesquely, and Callum feels sick.

“What are you talkin’ about? he asks. He can feel tears burn his eyes, and he wipes roughly at them.

“He ain’t the only one though,” says Ben, folding his arms and staring right at Callum, his cold eyes piercing Callum’s very soul. “There are so many hot men in here, and they’re all up for it. The longer they’ve been in, the easier they are.” He pauses, and then says, “I don’t need you any more, Callum. I don’t need you and I don’t want you.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” whispers Callum again, holding on to the phrase like a mantra that can somehow protect him against the hurt that Ben’s inflicting. “I said I’d stick with ya, and I meant it. I don’t care how long you’re in here, I’ll -”

“Yer nothin’ to me anymore,” says Ben firmly. “I don’t want ya coming here anymore and I won’t be sending you any more visiting passes.”

He sits forward again and fixes Callum’s gaze with his own, making sure he’s listening to him. “I don’t want you anymore, Callum. I don’t love you.”

Callum can feel tears running down his cheeks. “You don’t mean that!”

“You’re sweet. We had fun, but that’s all it was.”

“No -”

“That’s all it was.” Ben repeats. “Go home, Callum.”

Callum shakes his head silently. When he doesn’t move, Ben lowers his head and stares into his lap. “Go home Cal,” he repeats quietly. “Go and get a life.” He doesn’t look up.

Ten years on…

Seeing Ben at Lexi’s party had only brought home to Callum how stupid he’d been to imagine that Ben might still feel anything for him. He feels like an idiot. All these years, he’s held on to the tiny, vanishing hope that Ben might still want him; that he’d been lying when he sent him away ten years earlier, but he’s been put right now. Ben is not interested in him. He doesn’t care that he’s moved on with a new bloke.

The only thing for Callum to do is harden his heart against the younger man. He’d tried and almost succeeded ten years ago. He just has to finish the job now.

He would have tried avoiding Ben completely if he’d been able to, but Alex had accepted an invitation on his behalf to meet up with what Lola called ‘the old gang’ in E20 – Lola and Jay, Whitney. And Ben.

Alex mentioned that Lola had suggested making it a regular calendar event, and Callum had smiled through gritted teeth and agreed that that would be a great idea.

If he could, he would have found a way to turn down the invitation, but his upstairs neighbour had just very considerately flooded his flat by leaving the bath taps on, resulting in Callum having to spend a few nights at Lola and Jay’s while his landlord sorted out the damage. At least he’s avoided the nightmare scenario of having to stay with them while Ben’s still there too. The younger man had moved out a few days beforehand into his own rented flat round the corner in Victoria Road.

That’s beside the point, though. The fact remains that Callum sort-of feels obliged to go out with Jay and Lola for drinks to thank them for letting him stay.

Which is why he finds himself sitting across a table from Ben Mitchell in E20 one Friday night, one hand curled gently around Alex’s neck as if he’s Callum’s own personal security blanket. The two of them have been getting on better since they had a heart to heart the evening of Lexi’s birthday, even though, as they reached the restaurant for their date and took their seats, Alex had commented on how distracted Callum had seemed. Callum had made an effort and pushed all stray thoughts out of his head so that he could focus solely on Alex, and it seemed to have done the trick. The upshot of their conversation: they would continue to have sex on Alex’s terms, and Callum would stop pushing him to try things he didn’t want.

Callum supposes he can live with that, even as his treacherous mind chooses the most inopportune moments to play back a reel of all the amazing, body-shattering sex he’d had with Ben. At least compromising with Alex means he’s not alone, and that’s important. He’s seen what being alone does to people. He’s seen how sad Ben seems.

Sad, and grumpy, judging by the expression on Ben’s face right now. He’s staring across the table in E20 with a glum look on his face, and when Lola leans in to whisper something in his ear, he glares at her and snaps a reply.

He doesn’t look much happier when Whitney tries to engage him in conversation either, but Callum supposes he can understand that. The two of them never really made it up after Ben whisked Callum away from her just before their wedding.

At the time, Callum would have said he was the one who chose Ben, but with the benefit of hindsight, experiencing first-hand how devious and manipulative Ben could be, he wonders occasionally if Ben hadn’t just played a very clever game, pushing and pulling at Callum just enough until he thought it was he who had made the decision to leave Whitney for Ben.

Callum’s spent the last ten years re-writing his history with Ben in the light of his treatment at the younger man’s hands after Ben went to prison. It saddens him, how what he thought was an epic love story turned out to be tawdry and tainted, nothing special at all.

Whitney and Lola are having a very intense conversation across Ben, who’s sitting in between them, and he’s looking like he wishes he was anywhere but here. Callum can at least empathise with that.

Jay seems to be finding Ben’s predicament hilarious.

“It ain’t funny,” Ben snaps at him.

“What, you’d rather be over here talking about football with me, would ya?”

Alex looks around at Jay’s mention of ‘football’. “Did you see the match on Wednesday?” he asks, looking hopefully at Ben. Callum tenses slightly, the way he always does when Alex and Ben come into contact with each other.

“Uh, no mate,” says Ben, looking disdainfully at him. “I’m not really a football kind of bloke. Unless you count leering at ‘em in their shorts.”

Beside him, Callum feels Alex’s surprise. “Uh…oh! You’re gay. I had no idea!”

Whitney snorts, and Jay stares at Alex in disbelief. “Seriously? You didn’t notice any signs at all?”

“Need to get yer gaydar fixed, don’t you Al?” asks Ben, with a patronising smile.

Callum rubs the back of Alex’s neck soothingly. “Leave him alone, you two.” He gives Ben, in particular, a stare, warning him not to make fun of Alex. He wouldn’t expect anything less of the younger man, to be honest. It’s how he imagines he gets his kicks these days.

“How’s the policin’, Cal?” asks Jay, not-so-subtly trying to change the subject. “You arrested anyone I know lately?”

Callum can’t help himself. As soon as he starts talking about his career he gets carried away with enthusiasm. He could talk for hours about it. All the while he’s speaking though, he can feel Ben’s eyes trained on him. Mocking him, no doubt, for his positivity, which seems to be a weakness as far as Ben Mitchell is concerned. “I tell you what though,” he says eventually. “There’s so much more I wish I could do. Some of these blokes we pull in, no more than kids, most of ‘em, and you see them again and again. I wish I could sit down with ‘em and give’ em the support they need to stay on the straight and narrow.” He sighs. It’s something he’s been thinking about a lot lately, especially since his chat with Mikey Blunt, the kid whose criminal career started when he was nine and shows no sign of abating. “But all I do is book ‘em and read ‘em their rights. We’ve got a right little revolving door down that station.”

“I doubt most of ‘em would listen anyway,” says Whitney. “Proper little scrotes, most of ‘em.” She throws a sideways glance at Ben.

“Yeah but Callum’s a saint,” says Ben. “Always seein’ the good in everyone.”

Callum glares at him. As he expected, Ben mocks the goodness in anyone. “Nothin’ wrong with that,” he says tetchily. “I ain’t naïve.”

“I know that,” sighs Ben, looking a little crestfallen, to Callum’s surprise. “I weren’t -”

“So, you all settled into your new flat, Ben?” asks Lola.

He gives one last reproachful look at Callum and turns to Lola. “Think so. Still got to get a few bits and bobs, but yeah, all moved in.”

“Oh, mate,” says Jay. “While I remember, you’ve still got our spare keys. We’re gonna need ‘em for Cal.”

“Callum?” repeats Ben. “Why?”

“Because we’re the Walford Home for Waifs and Strays,” says Jay with a roll of his eyes.

“I said I’ll only stay a couple o’ nights,” says Callum, feeling embarrassed that he’s imposing on their hospitality.

“Nah, you’re alright mate,” replies Jay. “I’m only pullin’ yer leg. Stay as long as ya want. We’ve just decontaminated the place after Ben moved out.

“Excuse me,” says Ben, sounding mildly offended for some reason. “Why is Cal living with you now?”

“He ain’t livin’ with us,” supplies Lola. “We’re helpin’ him out for a while.”

“The flat above mine flooded,” explains Callum. “Me neighbour left the bath running and my gaff’s ruined too, so the landlord’s havin’ to refurbish it.”

“Yeah, and I bet he bumps yer rent up when you move back in, an’ all,” says Jay, before taking a swig of his lager.

“He better not,” says Callum. “I’m already payin’ a fortune.” Alex pats him soothingly on the arm and gives him a sympathetic look. Callum sees Ben clock it and scoff, and gives him another warning glare.

“Anyway,” says Jay. “We need the keys back Ben.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Ben. “I’ll drop ‘em round tomorrow. I’ll call in at the salon, shall I?”

“Yeah,” says Lola. Then she adds, “No, tell ya what, I’m doin’ a stock take tomorrow. Can you drop ‘em off in the flat and then pull the door to when you come back out?” 

Callum’s on an early shift again that following day. He’d been thankful – it meant he could legitimately make an early get-away from the drinks session. He’d made little attempt to speak to Ben during the evening, still putting into practice Operation ‘Harden-Your-Heart’, and Ben hadn’t seemed too keen to get into one-on-one conversation with him, either, so the evening hadn’t been as painful as he’d anticipated.

He feels relief though, like an ordeal has been endured and survived, and resolves not to put himself in that position again. He’s already got a ready store of excuses lined up for when Lola suggests a repeat performance.

For once, he’s happy, too, to get to the end of his shift. He’s got the whole afternoon to himself – Alex is working all day – and he plans a mooch around the shops for a new shirt or two, maybe a coffee too. He likes spending time on his own now and then. He’s never been afraid of his own company, and it gives him time to think; time to reflect.

He lets himself into the flat using Lola’s key that she’d had to lend him, and heads straight to the shower. Lola and Jay are both at work, and the kids are out somewhere, so he’s got the place to himself. He can let his hair down a bit. He’s grateful to Lola and Jay for letting him stay, but he somehow feels like he’s got to be on his best behaviour all the time.

He spends longer than usual in the shower, just letting the hot water soothe him, and then pads out to the kitchen for a glass of water, clad only in a towel around his waist. He’s drying his hair with another towel and doesn’t even notice at first that he’s not the only one in the flat. When he notices Ben in the kitchen, he lets out a quiet, involuntary yelp of alarm, then pulls his towel tighter around his waist in a defensive action.

“Shit! I didn’t know you was here.”

Ben wheels round and opens and closes his mouth, looking – what? Embarrassed? Guilty? “Sorry. I, uh…I just stopped by to drop off the keys for ya.”

“Right.” Callum stands stock still, cursing the awkwardness of the situation. He’s only thankful that Ben looks like he’s sharing his feeling that he wants the ground to swallow him up. “Thanks.”

“You, um…you OK?” asks Ben, maintaining eye contact with that shut-down, hard man stare he likes to adopt. The one that gives absolutely nothing away.

Callum takes a while to respond. He blinks a couple of times first. “Yeah. Just. Got off shift. I should, uh…” He points behind himself with his free hand, and takes a slow step back towards the door.

Ben takes a quicker step forward. “So why ain’t ya stayin’ with Alex while your flat’s being sorted?” he asks.

“He, uh…no room,” says Callum, not wanting to have this conversation.

“No room?” exclaims Ben, looking bemused. “You only need half his bed, surely?”

“It ain’t like... He…” Callum wants to tell Ben to mind his own business. He knows Ben is only going to laugh at what he says next. He heaves a huge sigh, looking resigned. “He lives with his parents, OK?” He glares at the incredulous look that spreads across Ben’s face.

“What? And they don’t like him bringing blokes back?”

Callum would happily strangle him now. “He ain’t out.”

“He’s what?” And there it is. Ben is laughing. “He’s in his thirties and he ain’t out? Seriously?”

“Yeah, alright,” says Callum irritably. Ben thinks he’s dating a loser. He probably thinks that’s all Callum can get. “Not everyone came out of the womb declaring themselves out and proud like you did.”

“Well, no, but even you was out before you was thirty, and you was a real late bloomer.”

Callum takes that to mean that even he was a loser, but not so much as the man he’s dating now. He shakes his head in annoyance. “You are such an arse, you know that?”

Ben is still grinning widely, but he sobers up immediately at the anger in Callum’s voice. The humour drains from his face. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just…well you can’t half pick ‘em, eh?”

Callum bristles at the implication. Callum is useless when it comes to men. That might well be the case, but it’s not for one of those men to tell him so. His blood is boiling now. How dare Ben judge him? How dare he assume he’s superior just because he’s the more worldly one of the two of them; the one who can pick up and discard men like they’re so much trash.

“Yeah, you’re right. If it ain’t the closet case it’s the self-centred, callous psycho who treats me like shit, right? I tell you what though, Ben. I know which one I’d rather have.”

His words seem to echo in the terrible silence that follows. He sees Ben’s expression change, and it’s not what he expected. For a split second, before the hard-man shutters come back down, he sees raw hurt in Ben’s eyes.

“Well you ain’t so squeaky clean, are ya?” retorts Ben in a rough voice. He clears his throat. “What was all that guff about yer boyfriend owning the gym on Bridge Street, hey? Or the fact that you’re so in love with your boyfriend that you’re gonna move in with him? Lies, Cal! You’re a LIAR. So don’t act so high and mighty with me!”

He pushes past Callum and heads out of the flat.

Callum is immediately contrite. He calls after the younger man, but Ben doesn’t turn around. Callum can hear him thudding down the stairs to the street outside. He wonders how Ben worked out that everything he said about his relationship with Alex at Lexi's party was rubbish. He sighs, feeling like a bastard when he remembers the look in Ben's eyes for that split-second. How the hell does Ben Mitchell do that to him? The younger man has just made fun of Callum’s boyfriend and been scathing about Callum’s choices in life, and yet Callum’s the one left with a gnawing sense of shame at the way he’d reacted.

He shakes the feelings out of his head. Ben is manipulative. Callum knows this about him. He’s probably on the way to forgetting their encounter already. It’s only Callum who’s left second-guessing what just happened.

As he heads back to his bedroom to get dressed though, he can feel another set of thoughts lodging in his head. He pushes them away, but they come back tenfold. He sinks back onto the bed and groans. His brain is playing scenarios that he really doesn’t want to deal with: what would have happened if he’d pulled his towel away from his waist? If Ben had stepped in front of him to remove it, pulling Callum’s naked body against his own, something that’s always been a kink of Callum’s?

In an irony that’s not lost on Callum, the only way he can chase away the shame at how he’s somehow hurt Ben is to give free rein to these other thoughts. Not for the first time since Ben bloody Mitchell got out of prison, Callum takes himself in hand, then heads back for another shower afterwards.

It’s all so fucked up, and he’s disgusted with himself.

Chapter 6

He looks out for Ben in the next couple of days, hoping to be able to apologise to him, but it seems that Ben’s decided to go cold turkey on him. He sees him once or twice in the Square, but Ben is either heading off in the opposite direction, or doesn’t hear him when he calls out to him.

Callum supposes he should just accept the situation. Ben’s doing him a favour by keeping out of his way. It’s what Callum wanted, but he’s too weak-willed to ensure it happens for himself. If Ben’s come to the same conclusion, that they’re better off staying out of each other’s way, then perhaps it’s the universe’s way of giving Callum what he wants, and he should just go with the flow.

As summer passes and they start heading into autumn, things don’t get any easier though. There are two issues Callum’s struggling with. The first is relatively easier than the second. He can’t stop thinking about the pain in Ben’s eyes when he’d called him those names. It doesn’t tally with what he tells himself he knows about the younger man. Ben’s a hard man and Callum knows he can take care of himself, but Callum is surprised at how much that flash of raw emotion has upset him personally. He tries to rationalise it away. Ben hurt Callum a hundred times more than Callum can have hurt him with his careless words, so maybe Callum shouldn’t worry about it. He can’t help it though. He’s always been a big softy when it comes to other people’s feelings. He just hopes that Ben’s got over it, even without an apology. Operation Harden-Your-Heart is still live, even if Callum is struggling with it a bit.

The second issue is what Callum’s come to call The Sex Issue. He knows he’s still sexually attracted to Ben. What he doesn’t know is if that’s just a reaction to not being sexually attracted to Alex.

There, he’s admitted it to himself.

Sex with Alex is boring and unfulfilling, and Callum spends so much of his time compensating through what Ben would have called ‘self service’ that he feels like he’s in danger of causing himself an injury. What he can’t work out is whether the presence of Ben back on the Square is adding fuel to the fire, so to speak.

It doesn’t matter that he rarely sees the younger man anymore – he doesn’t even come along to the Friday night drinking sessions Lola organises for the last Friday of every month. Just knowing Ben’s out there in the world somewhere is enough to have Callum turning into a potential sex pest. It’s so fucked up. He still doesn’t like the man. He’s still hurt by his treatment of him ten years earlier, but now he also feels sorry for him in some screwed-up way. And he still wants to bone him senseless.

Callum begins to wonder if he was a terrible person in a previous life and this is his penance.

In an attempt to ignore The Sex Issue, he throws himself into his work, but even that seems to have lost its shine. There are too many kids coming through the doors of the custody suite time and time again. All the police can do is book ‘em and build a case against them, and Callum can’t help feeling that there’s a missing link in the process. There’s no intervention that stops them from committing crimes, and he sees the charges against them getting more and more serious as the months go on.

He tries his hardest with some of them. He sits down with the ones whose faces he knows and tries to get through to them, but his sergeant reminds him that he’s not a social worker. His job is to get justice for the victims, not to cosy up to the perpetrators. Callum’s beginning to think he’s in the wrong job, and it’s a sobering thought when he worked so hard to get here, gave up so much. The trouble is, he doesn’t know what he’d do instead.

He’s out on patrol one day when he bumps into Mikey Blunt, the kid whose charge sheet is already longer than his arms. He’s skulking around on the corner of Victoria Road taking quick drags from a rollie and looking intently across the road from under his fringe.

“Alright, Mike?”

The kid hides his roll-up in the palm of his hand, like that’s the worst behaviour he’s involved in. “PC Callway.”

He’d learnt Callum’s name in one of their earlier chats, and had decided that’s what he’d call him. Callum supposes in a way it’s a pet name. He’s flattered that the kid thinks he’s worth giving a name to; he hopes it signifies a certain amount of respect on the part of Mikey; but at the same time he knows not to get too familiar, not to be compromised into turning a blind eye to the kid’s behaviour.

“What you up to?” he asks.

The kid tilts his chin defiantly, and something in the action reminds Callum of Ben. “Jus’ chillin’.”

“You sure?” asks Callum. “Not casing the bookies or anything?”

The kid looks genuinely wounded, a hurt look on his pale, pinched face. “I ain’t always up to no good, ya know?”

“No?”

Mikey scuffs at the kerb with his heel, irritated. “You lot, you’re all the same, ain’t ya? I could be helpin’ little old ladies across the road and you’d still be looking to make sure I weren’t helpin’ meself to their pensions.”

In spite of himself, Callum smiles. “And why would that be, d’ya think?”

“Cos once a con, always a con, s’far as you lot are concerned.”

The kid comes from a long line of criminals. His entire family have come up against the long arm of the law at one time or another, whether it’s his mother shoplifting; his older brother stealing cars, or his father’s various charges for GBH, ABH and generally terrorising the neighbourhood. No wonder some kids find it hard to stick to the straight and narrow. Callum would say the kids of such families are as much victims as those on the other end of the crimes they commit, but his sergeant would just tell him he was soft and probably try to put him on admin duties out of harm’s way. Callum can’t help but think, though, that kids like Mikey deserve a second chance. What’s that quote about the sins of the fathers being visited on their children? He’s sure he can still see something worth salvaging in the kid whenever they chat, regardless of the family he’s grown up in.

“So, if you ain’t up to no good, what are you up to?” he asks him.

The kid looks sheepish.

“C’mon, what you doing?”

Callum follows Mikey’s line of gaze across the road and suddenly it all makes sense. “Ah,” he says.

On the other side of the road, hanging around outside the bookies, is a group of three girls, all done up to the nines in the latest fashions.

“Which one, then?” he asks.

Mikey takes another drag on his roll-up, his actions those of a much more worldly man, but the soft look on his face betraying his youth and lack of experience. “Blonde one,” he mutters.

Callum watches the girl for a few seconds. She’s clearly way out of Mikey’s league, and he feels an overwhelming sense of pity for the kid. He hates feeling this way, and it seems to be the main emotion he does feel these days. He knows what it’s like to want someone you can’t have. He knows how much of an outsider it can make you feel. “Nice,” he says after a while. “Watcha gonna do to woo her?”

The kid snorts at his old-fashioned language. “Nothin’.” The wistful tone of his voice indicates that he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. “Just thought I’d stand over here and stare at ‘er.”

Callum claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, then. I’m sure that’ll work wonders.”

They share a sad smile, and the kid says, “You got any tips, PC Callway?”

“Me?” Callum thinks about his own car crash of a love life. “God no, not one of my specialist subjects, romance. Probably better off without it, to be honest.”

The kid gives him a bemused stare, his normal cockiness returning. “Yeah, thanks for that then.”

Callum realises he’s probably given too much away with his last statement. He’s relieved to see Whitney coming down the road towards them, and claps Mikey on the arm again.

“Don’t listen to me, mate. Hope it works out for ya. Mind how you go.”

He leaves Mikey to his unrequited love and calls out to Whitney. “Where you headed?”

She’s looking flustered, which seems to be her default setting these days. “Gotta go and do some shopping before I pick up the kids.”

“I’ll walk with ya as far as Tesco,” says Callum. He’s due to go off-shift shortly, and a wander along Victoria Road back towards the Square should take him up to the time he needs to return to the station. “Y’alright?”

She looks like she’s about to make a sarcastic comment, but then her face softens and she sighs. “Just tired. Working all the hours god sends and I still feel like I’m struggling. Christmas is just around the corner and the kids are asking for all sorts. It all costs money though, don’t it? Money I don’t have.”

“They written any Christmas lists yet?” asks Callum.

“Yeah, course. I mean, it is the end of October, they do like to get in early.” She rolls her eyes and they share a smile.

“Well, let me have ‘em,” says Callum. “I’m sure there’ll be somethin’ on there I can buy ‘em.”

She stops and turns to face him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. They’re like me own kids though, aren’t they? I wanna help.”

She strokes her hand down his arm. “You’re a good man, Callum Highway.”

“Dunno about that,” he says, feeling embarrassed.

She gives him a good long stare and they resume walking. “Did you never want kids of your own?”

There was a time when he thought he did. When he had what he thought was a decent man who loved him - a man who’d already proved himself to be a good parent, as Callum thought at the time . These days though, it’s all he can do to look after himself, let alone being responsible for another human life, so maybe the universe dealt him the right hand.

“I don’t mind having kids I can give back at the end of the day,” he says.

She looks as if she doesn’t quite believe him, but doesn’t press the issue. “How’s Alex?”

“OK.”

Something in his tone must alert her to the fact that all’s not well. She walks sideways alongside him so she can see his face. “What?” she asks.

He grimaces. He really doesn’t want to air his dirty laundry in public, but she’s insistent. “C’mon. Dish the dirt.”

He sighs a deep sigh. “I dunno, Whit. What we’ve got…it’s not what I imagined when I came out all those years ago.”

“Why? You thought it would be all bells and whistles and gay pride parades every day?”

He gives a tiny shake of his head, dismissing her teasing. “No, I wanted to settle down with someone, but...” He sighs again. “Sometimes I think we’re too settled, know what I mean?”

“God, I’d give anything to be too settled with a decent bloke,” Whitney says wistfully.

Callum has only just admitted to himself that there’s a problem between him and Alex, but now he has, he feels like he needs to articulate it to someone, to make it real.

He takes a deep breath. “We don’t have sex,” he blurts out. “Much,” he qualifies. He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “It’s gettin’ so bad I’m this far away from rubbing meself up against the furniture.”

“Nice!” Whitney grimaces, looking taken aback at his honesty, but quickly recovers her composure. “Why you still with him then?”

Callum shrugs. “I dunno. I’m middle-aged and all I have to show for meself is two failed relationships and some kind of arrangement with a bloke whose idea of danger is putting two sugars in his tea. Why am I with ‘im?” he questions himself. “Companionship? Having someone to keep the loneliness at bay?”

She snorts. “You could get a dog for that.”

They walk in silence for a few paces, and she opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, as if she’s working up to saying something.

Eventually, she asks, “Is this something to do with Ben?”

“Ben?” Callum laughs, brushing off her question. “Is that your catch phrase, Whit? Any time I tell you anything about meself, you ask if it’s sommat to do with Ben.”

“Well, you ain’t exactly got yourself back on-track since he went inside, have ya? Alex is the only bloke you’ve even tried to make a go of things with, and look how that’s turning out.”

Callum begins to wish he hadn’t bothered saying anything. He resents her judging him and Alex, even though it was Callum who gave her the opportunity.

“He’s not much better,” adds Whitney.

Callum glances sideways at her. “What d’ya mean?”

To her credit, she looks a little shamefaced. “I’ve, uh…I’ve bin spendin’ a bit of time with him.”

“With Ben?” Callum is a little incredulous. “But you can’t stand ‘im!”

She avoids his gaze. “He ain’t so bad. I dunno, I just felt a bit sorry for ‘im. He ain’t half the man he used to be before he went inside. He just seems a bit lonely.”

She tosses her hair behind her shoulders, tossing off her suddenly subdued mood at the same time. “Besides, Kathy asked me if I’d look out for him. She said he needed a few friends.”

Callum immediately feels ashamed. Kathy had made the same request of him, and he’d refused, so what does that make him? Selfish. Self-obsessed. Not a good man.

“I ain’t seen him in months,” he admits.

“No,” says Whitney, as if she knows more than she’s letting on. They’ve reached the supermarket now, and she stops before going in. “This is me. Thanks for the chat.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek. “Hope you get things sorted. With Alex. Or Ben…whoever.”

There’s a second, before she steps back, when Callum gets the urge to kiss her. Properly kiss her. From the look in her eyes, he can tell she feels the same. Immediately, they both look away, and she squeezes his arm before turning to go into the shop. And what a phenomenal car crash that would have been, thinks Callum. They’re both lonely. That’s the problem. What they both momentarily considered, however, is not the solution.

So many lonely people in the world. As he walks on, the sight of his uniform clearing a path for him along the crowded Walford pavements, he wonders how that can be.

He wanders round onto the Square, thanking his lucky stars that he didn’t just make his life a whole lot more complicated, and notices that the hoarding outside the old Minute Mart has been taken down. There are scaffolding poles and structural supports inside the shop itself, and a couple of blokes in hard hats measuring and appraising the space.

He’s stopped to see if he can work out what the building’s going to be turned into, when he hears a voice calling his name. He turns to see a balding bloke in his mid-fifties getting out of a car just outside the shop, and his face creases in a grin of recognition.

“Gerry Boyd! What you doin’ here? I thought you’d be off playing golf somewhere.”

The bloke rounds his car and claps a hand on Callum’s back. “PC Highway! Still keeping the hoodlums at bay?” He grins back at Callum, but his grin turns into a mock-grimace, and he lowers his voice as if he’s about to impart some secret wisdom to Callum. “Turns out, there’s only so much golf you can play before it all gets a bit dull. That’s what happens when you take early retirement.”

“My heart bleeds for ya,” says Callum. “You gonna re-join the force then?”

“Nah. Got out at the right time, I reckon.” Gerry steps back and looks up at the front of the old Minute Mart, spreading his arms wide. “Got a new occupation.”

“Yeah?” asks Callum. “You goin’ into the grocery business?”

“Nah. Recyclin’,” Gerry says mysteriously. “I am setting something up I reckon would be right up your street, PC Highway.” He taps the side of his nose. “Bikes.”

He grins at the mystified look on Callum’s face. “Bikes and ex-cons. Or soon-to-be ex-cons, in any case. Remember all those nights in the canteen, we’d try and put the world to rights after our shifts? Talkin’ about how we could save the justice system a fortune if we just carried out an intervention with every runny-nosed little oik who fetched up at the station?”

Callum nods, feeling a prickle of excitement at the back of his neck.

“Well, guess who’s got funding to set up an employment and support project for young offenders?” Gerry smooths his hands down the front of his coat, indicating himself. “And guess who’ll be looking for project staff in another couple of months?”

“Seriously?” asks Callum. “You think I could do it?”

“You, Callum, are just the kind of bloke I’m looking for. You get it. I’m preaching to the converted with you, ain’t I?” Gerry claps him on the back again. “Bit of re-training, you’d be perfect. Ever thought about leaving the force?”

“Well, yeah,” says Callum, trying not to sound too excited. “I mean, not seriously, cos I don’t know what else I could do, but - ”

“Well, now you do,” says Gerry. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a business card. “Take this, have a think about it, and give me a call, yeah?”

“OK,” says Callum.

Gerry waves a hand in farewell and goes into the shop, leaving Callum to make his way back to the station, his head suddenly filled with plans and questions and what-ifs. Thoughts that for once do not revolve around Ben bloody Mitchell.

Chapter 7

Callum spends a lot of time weighing up the pros and cons of taking Gerry Boyd up on his job offer. It’s a big step, leaving the police. He’s vaguely considered it in the last few months, but now that there’s a solid alternative, he starts to worry that he might be making the wrong decision, so he does what he always does when faced with a difficult situation: he considers it from all angles and then sets it to one side. Boyfriends, jobs, it’s all the same when it comes to Callum’s indecision. Thus, does his life trundle on in its same mundane tracks.

His preoccupation with the possible job opportunity notwithstanding, Callum soon finds himself pondering his conversation with Whitney. It seems Ben Mitchell does not stay out of his head for long, and it’s driving him to distraction. He wonders what Whit had meant when she said Ben wasn’t much better than Callum. She’d said that Ben wasn’t half the man he’d been before he went inside. If he’s honest with himself, Callum had thought something similar. He’d noted that Ben seemed subdued at Lexi’s party, but assumed it was a temporary thing, something about Ben getting used to being on the outside again. He hasn’t seen him for quite a while now so he’s not been able to assess any progress he might have made. It’s none of his business, anyway, of course. His and Ben’s paths no longer cross. Operation Harden-Your-Heart is still in full swing.

He's not hardened his heart against the offspring of Ben Mitchell though, of course he hasn’t. He’s still been meeting up with Lexi every now and again when Ben’s well out of the picture, and the next time they meet up, this time for a cinema trip, he steers the conversation around to her dad. He tests out his enquiry in his head first, to make sure it sounds just the right level of casual. He’s not bothered about what her answer might be. He’s only making a polite enquiry.

“I ain’t seen yer dad for a long time. He OK?”

“Think so. He’s keepin’ himself to himself.” She bites her lip, looking a bit worried. “He’s on his own too much, I think. He ought to find himself a nice bloke.”

Callum shoves down the sudden stab of jealousy he feels at the thought of Ben with someone else. He doesn’t completely mind Ben having hook-ups, he knows they’re just about sex. They don’t mean anything. A steady boyfriend, though, that would be something completely different. It would mean Ben’s made the decision to commit to someone. It would mean he never wanted to commit to Callum in the first place, not that he just couldn’t.

Not that it matters to Callum. It’s ancient history. It really doesn’t matter to him anymore. He’s got Alex, at least for now. He’s moved on.

“He, uh… he got anyone in mind?” he asks airily.

Lexi laughs, a tinge of sadness in her chuckle. “Nah. He don’t go nowhere to meet anyone.”

Well, OK, thinks Callum.

He still goes through the motions with Alex, hoping that maybe things will get better and kidding himself that he’s working on it. He likes the bloke, he really does, but ‘like’ isn’t much of a foundation for a relationship, especially when the other ingredients aren’t there. He wonders what Alex makes of their relationship. A couple of times recently, he’s caught him out giving Callum troubled looks, as if he’s not sure they’re going to stay the distance either, but whenever Callum’s asked him what the problem is, he’s just shrugged and denied that there is one.

They’re in the Albert one night when it all comes out. It’s Alex’s turn to get the drinks in, and he’s gone for ages. When he comes back, without drinks, he looks perturbed.

“Can, uh…can we go outside a minute? I wanna talk to you. Can’t hear myself think in here.”

Callum looks at him with concern. “Yeah, course. Let’s get our coats.”

They queue up at the cloakroom, Alex avoiding Callum’s gaze all the while and Callum wondering what he’s done wrong this time, and then head towards the exit. It’s cold outside. Earlier, it had been raining, but now it feels like everything’s beginning to freeze and there’s a glint of frost on the pavements.

Callum wraps his arms around himself to try and retain some of his body heat. Their breath forms in front of them in clouds. “Shall we go back to mine?” he asks. “Bit warmer.”

“No, I need to talk to you about this now,” says Alex. He’s pacing and looking like he’s working up to something. Callum’s immediate thought is that he’s going to tell him he’s been having an affair. He feels a less intense version of the dread he’d felt with Ben ten years ago begin to course through his veins. He sits at one of the outside tables, ignoring the cold of the metal that quickly begins to seep through his arse.

Alex has been looking nervous, but now a resolute look comes over his face. “I,uh… I was just speaking to Ben in there.” He gestures back into the club with his thumb.

Ben was in there! Callum ignores the small stab of excitement at the knowledge. It’s been such a long time since he’s seen him. “Yeah?” he asks, working hard to keep his voice steady.

Alex is staring at him hard, like despite his efforts he’s given something away in the tone of that one word.

“He’s left, Callum,” he says drily.

Callum shrugs his shoulders, like it doesn’t matter one way or another to him.

“Why did you never tell me you and him used to be together?” asks Alex.

To be honest, Callum’s not entirely sure, and the question’s caught him out. “Because… it’s ancient history.”

A wry smile appears on Alex’s face. “Yeah, that’s exactly what he said, too.”

“Well, there you are then.” Callum does not feel hurt at Ben’s dismissal of their relationship. Non-relationship. Not at all.

“But here’s the thing,” says Alex. “I’ve been out socially with the pair of you, together. At the same time. And you never even told me then. You kept me out of the loop, made me feel like an idiot.”

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s the case. It wasn’t the intention.”

Alex looks as if Callum’s apology is neither here nor there. He’s still staring hard at Callum, like he’s a specimen under a microscope. “You changed, when he came back on the scene.”

Callum shrugs off the observation with a sickly smile. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You know you did.” Alex folds his arms. He takes a few seconds to deliver his judgement. “You still want him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffs Callum.

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous, am I?” A sneer appears upon Alex’s face. “You still want him, and he’s incapable of having a meaningful relationship with anyone. He’s a psychopath. So I’d say it’s you being ridiculous, wouldn’t you? He’s killed. More than once, and you’re still hung up on him. What is wrong with you, Callum?”

Callum can feel his anger rising at the dismissive way Alex is talking about Ben. “You don’t know anything about him!”

Alex laughs mirthlessly. “And there you go. Defending him.” He shakes his head in despair. “Defending the indefensible.” He steps closer to Callum, jabs a finger at him. “You shouldn’t want anything to do with a man like that, Callum, and yet here you are, still hung up on him. I should have realised much sooner than this. You’ve been weird for months, and it all started when he came back. It all makes sense now.”

Callum stands up so he’s on the same level as Alex. “Actually, he cheated on me, so why would I still be hung up on him? Eh?”

“No idea! But you are.” Callum shakes his head, denying Alex’s assertion. “So that makes you an idiot, doesn’t it Callum? Alex gestures between the two of them. “You’ve never really been in this relationship, have you? You’ve only ever given a part of yourself to it.”

Callum scoffs again. “I could say the same about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t we ever have sex, Alex?”

A couple of punters are just leaving the club. They catch Callum’s heartfelt question and throw the pair of them amused glances. Lovers’ tiffs are two-a-penny outside the Albert on a Friday night.

Alex turns his back on them, shutting them out of the interaction between him and Callum. He rolls his eyes, like he’s getting sick of everything between them always coming back to this. “We. Do.”

“Not proper sex,” insists Callum. “Only handjobs. Or blowjobs from you when you’ve had a skinful first. Seems like I do most of the work on that score.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise it was such a chore for you,” says Alex.

“It ain’t, it’s just - ”

“I don’t need much to feel good with you,” says Alex.

Callum notices he doesn’t ask if he feels the same. “It’s OK to be scared,” he says. “I was before I came out, but - ”

Alex throws his hands up in the air. “Not this again.”

“Yeah, this again,” insists Callum. “I was a mess before I came out. It was Ben helped me out the closet. He was - ”

Alex laughs sarcastically. “And there we have it! That’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it? You’ve been acting out some sick re-run of you and Ben, only with me as the sad little closet case who needs bringing out of himself.” He shakes his head. “I wondered why you would never accept my word when I said I didn’t want to come out. I’m not a closet case, Callum. I’m as ‘out’ as I’m ever going to be. I like my life like this, and I don’t need any help from you to change. If you don’t accept me the way I am, you shouldn’t be with me in the first place!” His voice has been steadily increasing in volume as he speaks, and he shouts the last few words.

Callum’s anger has been rising in direct proportion. “How can you live like that?” he shouts back. His words echo in the dark street. Alex has never had a go at him like this before. It’s completely knocked him sideways, but he’s not going to stand there and let him dissect his life like that without knowing the first thing about what went on between him and Ben. Not when he’s just as screwed up in his own way.

They stare at each other, both collecting their breath. After a while, Alex sits down on one of the chairs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s Ben you should be angry at,” he says in a quieter voice. “Not me. He’s messed you up big time.”

Callum shakes his head silently, trying to deal with the anger he still feels. “I think you should go home, Alex. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.” He sits down beside Alex. “I do know I wanna be on my own right now.”

Alex sits silently for a few seconds, then nods his head. “We need to talk, but we’re both too worked up at the moment. I’ll call you, yes?”

Callum doesn’t answer. When he sees that he’s not going to get a response, Alex huffs out a breath and then stands and walks away.

Callum remains where he is, fuming. He’s not entirely sure who he’s fuming at, though. He’s just mad at the whole world at the moment. At Alex, for what he’s said, and for the way in which he’s never really let Callum in; for walking away, and in doing so taking away what little security Callum’s had in the few months that Ben’s been back out. And he’s mad at Ben, too. His anger at Ben is hardened from years of distillation, but on the surface there’s now a new layer. Ben has betrayed his secrets to Alex. He’s caused a rift between Callum and Alex, when Callum was working on making things right; working to make sure he wasn’t alone. If Alex leaves him, what’s he left with? Nothing, apart from Ben Mitchell unsettling his world again and tilting it on its axis, when he’s made it very clear time and time again he wants nothing to do with Callum.

Callum starts to shiver from the cold. He slams his hand down on the table next to him, and then gets up and stalks off across the Square. He has no thought in his head about where he’s going, but finds his feet taking him out along Victoria Road. He hesitates on the corner. Across the road, he can see a light on in Ben’s flat. He needs to have this out with him once and for all. How dare Ben tell Alex about the two of them? How dare he stick his nose in when he doesn’t even want Callum anymore?

He crosses the road and bangs on the door, leaning against the doorframe while he waits for Ben to answer the door. He can hear the television on inside the flat, and then the sound of Ben moving around.

When Ben opens the door, Callum glares at him and says, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He sees Ben’s eyes widen, but then he covers his surprise with a blank face. “I’ve bin avoiding ya for five months, Cal,” he says simply. “You only just noticed?”

He turns away, looking tired. Callum follows him into the room and shuts the door behind himself, his anger propelling him forward without reflection. “Don’t try and be clever. It don’t suit ya.”

Ben looks a little wary. He takes a step back.

“Why did ya tell Alex about us?” asks Callum.

“I didn’t realise I was your dirty little secret,” says Ben, folding his arms and looking small and vulnerable. Callum registers the fact, and it punctures his anger a little. “In any case,” continues Ben. “He already knew. I just filled in some o’ the gaps.” He pauses for a second, like he’s trying to make sense of the fact that Callum’s here having a go at him. “Where is the boyfriend, anyway?”

His question throws Callum off balance. His initial anger is being defused, fast, and he’s beginning to realise what a mistake he’s made coming here. “I..uh. I sent him home. We had a row.”

“Oh no!” says Ben, perking up again and speaking with patently false concern. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise?”

“Yeah, you’d love that wouldn’t ya?” snaps Callum, Ben’s customary sarcasm re-stoking his fury. “Ain’t messed up my life lately, have ya? You’ll be wanting another chance right about now.”

Ben scoffs. “Believe it or not, Callum, my life don’t revolve around you.” Callum is wounded by the easy way in which he admits it. “I’ll tell ya somethin’ though. If I WAS inclined to split you and lover-boy up, I’d be doin’ you a favour. He ain’t good enough for ya. You’re punching well below your weight with that one.”

His tone sounds almost soft, regretful, and it confuses Callum. He hides it by going on the attack again. “That ain’t for you to say!” He begins pacing around the room, exasperated. “We was alright until you came back on the scene.”

“You was barely even together before I came back on the scene!” Ben points out, with infuriating calmness. “In fact, if I was the suspicious sort, I might even suspect that you only GOT together cos I came back on the scene.”

If Callum were a more honest man, this might be the point at which he admits that Ben’s probably got it about right, but he’s not yet ready to walk away from the prison of lies he’s built around himself. Instead, he goes on the offensive again. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ben. Believe it or not, my life don’t revolve around you either.”

“No?” Ben crosses to the door. “So, why’re you here right now then?”

Callum comes up short. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. How the hell does Ben do that? In just two statements, he’s blown a hole through the entire fiction Callum’s been telling himself ever since he first heard from Jay that Ben had applied for parole. Ever since he decided, whether sub-consciously or not, that he ought to get himself a boyfriend before Ben bloody Mitchell was back on the scene.

Anguished, he exclaims, “God! Why d’you always have ta…urghh!”

He paces, scrubbing his hands though his hair, and when he turns back to Ben, who’s watching him warily with his hand on the latch of the door, there’s still anger, yes, but there’s something else too. All the walls he’s built up around himself are beginning to crumble. He feels too weak to keep up the pretence any longer. He’s fought this for so long, but he just can’t do it anymore. He pauses for a second, and then he’s crowding Ben back against the wall and smashing their lips together. He kisses him frantically, and grips his hips tightly. Ben gasps into the kiss, matching Callum for passion, but then he pulls back, panting heavily.

Callum starts to feel regret, thinking that Ben’s going to shove him aside and tell him to get out, but Ben just stares intently into his eyes for a second, then takes him firmly by the hand and leads him into his bedroom.

Callum doesn’t resist. He starts grabbing at Ben’s shirt as soon as they hit the bed, pulling it roughly over his head and tossing it to one side, then attacking his jeans. He’s frantic with how much he wants this. He’s waited so long.

For his part, Ben is tearing at Callum’s clothes with no finesse and scarcely more patience. Callum is so thankful that he seems to want this as much as he does. Ben kisses and licks at all the skin he uncovers as he undresses Callum.

When they’re both naked and Callum feels like he might explode from how turned-on he’s feeling, he asks Ben, “You got anything?”.

Ben nods towards the bedside drawer. He strokes himself while Callum sorts himself out with condom and lube. Callum’s hands are shaking, and it’s all he can do to roll the condom down his length and lube up hurriedly. He pins Ben down onto the bed and squirms in between his legs. He gasps at the first brush of their cocks.

A tiny voice in the back of Callum’s head is telling him this is the last time he’ll ever be with Ben in this way. The younger man will come to his senses very, very soon, and remember that he doesn’t want Callum. He loses himself in rediscovering Ben’s body before it gets taken away from him again, kissing, biting, licking, nuzzling every part of him, groaning and gasping as sensitive spots are rediscovered and new ones created.

Ben squirms beneath him. He’s wanton, breathless from their kisses and rock hard. “Want. You. Inside.” he gasps.

Callum lifts himself off Ben then and sits back on his heels, knees between Ben’s legs, his hands resting on Ben’s thighs. Ben is as beautiful as he ever remembers, more so, perhaps. He’s flushed and panting, looking bashful as Callum’s eyes travel over every inch of his body, drinking in the sight before him.

He strokes a hand over Ben’s stomach and hips, reacquainting himself with the feel of him, and then reaches almost tentatively to slide a lube-slickened finger inside him. He watches Ben’s face screw up in ecstasy as he twists it just right to hit the spot that sends him wild. After all this time Callum’s never forgotten just how to get it right first time.

Ben lets out a guttural groan at the sudden sensation and scrabbles at the bedcovers with his hands. “Please, Cal, just do it. Don’t need you to loosen me up. Just stick it in me,” he begs.

Of course. He always has been desperate. Callum stares down at him, remembering the Ben Mitchell that would do anything for cock.

Ben is wide-eyed, begging him with just a look, so he positions himself and eases into him, watching his expression all the while as the slide of his cock breaches and burns. When he’s bottomed out inside Ben, he can’t maintain his control any longer. All thoughts disappear from his head. Ben is so tight around him. He’s missed this. God, has he missed this. He rolls his head back with a groan and closes his eyes, and begins thrusting hard and steady.

The room is filled with the sounds of their exertion. Groans and heavy breaths, and Ben whispering rhythmic words in time with Callum’s thrusts. Callum’s own breathing is so loud in his ears, he can’t understand what he’s saying at first. He holds his breath for a couple of thrusts. “Missed you,” breathes Ben. “Missed you, missed you, missed you.”

Liar, replies Callum’s brain. Liar, liar, liar. Ben pulls Callum down to kiss him on the mouth, but he turns his head to the side. This is not about love, or re-setting their relationship. This is about anger and frustration and hurt. Callum screws his eyes tight shut as he fucks into him hard.

The pace is relentless now and Ben begins tilting his hips to slam up towards Callum as he thrusts into him. He tightens himself around him, and Callum suddenly comes with no warning and a loud, guttural groan. His stomach brushes against Ben’s cock as he climaxes, and it’s enough to tip Ben over the edge too.

Instantly, Callum hates himself. He collapses onto Ben and concentrates on regaining his equilibrium. They lie together in silence, both panting. Ben is stroking his skin gently and mumbles those treacherous words again, and Callum just wants to shrug off his touch.

“That was pretty amazing,” says Ben. “Anyone would think you hadn’t done that in a while.”

Again, Callum wonders at how Ben can pinpoint the truth so effortlessly. He turns his head towards Ben but avoids making eye contact.

There’s a second of silence between them, and then Ben says in wonder, “You ain’t, have ya? He don’t let ya.” He shifts to look more closely at Callum. “I’m right, ain’t I? Babe?”

At that word, Callum stirs, rolling off Ben and swinging round to sit on the edge of the bed. How can he use that word so casually when at one time it meant so much to Callum? “I ain’t your 'babe', Ben,” he says. “I ain’t been that for a long time.”

He flinches when Ben strokes a soft hand down his back, and concentrates on sorting out the condom. Now that they’ve finished, he feels a shame so great he wants to lash out at something. He’s betrayed Alex. He’s betrayed himself, too. How can he jump back into bed so easily with Ben after the younger man hurt him so badly? Did all his heartache mean nothing?

Ben starts to speak again. “Why are you with him if he don’t even - ”

Callum drops his head into his hands, feeling suddenly nauseous. “I shouldn’ta done this,” he says.

Ben sits up. He’s incredulous. He laughs. “What?”

“I shouldn’ta done this!” Callum stands up and begins hunting for his clothes where they’ve been tossed haphazardly around the room. He pulls on his underpants and shrugs back into his t-shirt. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” he says in an anguished tone.

“Yeah, a boyfriend who won’t even let ya fuck him,” says Ben. “A closet case who still lives with his parents.”

Callum’s pulling on his jeans now. He towers over Ben as he fastens the zip. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” he repeats, like that’s somehow going to save him, “and you- ”

“What about me?” asks Ben. He’s looking fearful now. Callum ignores it. He cannot afford to fall back under Ben’s spell.

“You’re just you,” he says, unable to articulate all the extreme emotions Ben ignites in him. He picks up the rest of his clothes and heads for the bedroom door. “This ain’t happening again,” he says.

He pulls on the rest of his clothes in the living room, rushing so that Ben doesn’t follow him, and then dashes out of the flat, slamming the door behind himself. He practically runs home, sobbing to himself, the harsh cold air burning his throat.

Chapter 8

When he gets home, Callum sinks down onto the couch, horrified at what he’s become. He doesn’t recognise himself anymore.

He’s cheated on Alex. He’s deceived him, too. He can admit to himself now that he’s been using him all this time. Using him to dull the pain of what happened with Ben; to combat his loneliness and despair. He’s never really cared about Alex, despite his best efforts to convince himself that he did. He’s only been interested in Alex for what he can do for Callum, and Alex recognised that before Callum. No wonder he told him some home truths earlier that evening. And now he’s gone, leaving Callum to face up to who and what he is.

It seems that whenever Callum and Ben come into each other’s orbit, other people get hurt. Callum still feels guilt for what Whitney went through, too, because of him. He begins to wonder if perhaps he isn’t just as bad as Ben when it comes to that dark streak he has. People suffer because of Callum’s fascination with Ben.

He tells himself that he’s never intended to hurt people. He’s been blind to the ways he’s drawn other people into his feelings for Ben. That now he’s aware, he can stop doing it, be a better man. In the ultimate irony, however, he’s used sex with Ben himself as a way of exorcising all his hurt and anger. He’s always seen sex as a loving act, but there was nothing loving in the way he’s just used Ben. Maybe that means he’s even worse than Ben. He knows Ben doesn’t want him anymore, but he’s used him regardless. He despises himself. He wonders whatever happened to that naïve boy who once told Ben that when he slept with someone it had to mean something.

He stumbles tiredly to the kitchen and searches the fridge for left-over alcohol. There’s a half-full bottle of white wine, brought over by Alex the previous week when they’d had a meal and more unsatisfying sex together on the couch. A few cans of beer, and in the cupboard, a bottle of whisky Callum had bought early in readiness for Christmas. He gathers it all together in his arms and takes it back through to the living room, where he proceeds to systematically work his way through as much of it as he can. He’s aiming for oblivion, for a place where the self-recrimination flying round and round in his head is silenced, even if only for a while.

He must reach it, because the next thing he knows he’s waking up with a crick in his neck from where he’s been slumped over the arm of the couch. There’s a banging in his head.

No, wait. The banging’s coming from outside his door.

He blinks himself into full consciousness, and heads for the kitchen to get a glass of water. His head is pounding, and his mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton wool all night. The banging on his door continues. He rasps out a curse, takes a sip of water and leaves the glass on the counter while he goes to answer it. It’s Stuart.

“You alright bruv? What’s the panic?”

Callum stares at him with bleary eyes. “What?”

“God, you look like death warmed up,” says Stuart, pushing past him and brandishing a couple of bags from the caff. “I brought bacon sarnies. Thought maybe they’d help.”

Callum has closed the door but is still leaning against the door frame, and he’s not sure he can move.

“Help with what?” he croaks, completely at a loss as to what’s going on here. Then the smell of the bacon wafts across to him, and he retches. He makes a blind dash for the bathroom and gets to the toilet just in time to disgorge the contents of his stomach. It’s mostly liquid, and he suddenly remembers the events of last night with a renewed feeling of shame.

He clutches the toilet bowl until he’s more or less sure he can move again without throwing up, and then gets up gingerly and makes his way back into the living room. Stuart has been busy while he’s been gone. He’s got plates from the kitchen and is making himself at home, chewing eagerly on one of the sandwiches.

Callum stands a safe distance away, propping himself up against the wall and trying not to throw up again at the sound of him chewing open-mouthed.

“Wh – why you here Stu?”

“Got your texts,” says Stuart cheerfully through a mouthful of sandwich. “Thought you might need a shoulder to cry on.”

Callum stares at him with a dawning sense of dread. Shit! What else did he do last night? He searches for his phone on the coffee table, pushing aside the half empty bottle of whisky and five empty beer cans.

He tries to focus on his sent texts list. There are three to Stuart, all sent after three am, when he must have been getting near the halfway mark on the bottle of whisky, having already drunk the beers. Thankfully, none to Ben or Alex.

He opens the ones he sent to Stuart:

BAD. gOD.

Suchn a horriblwe peraosn cant helpitt

dont now wat todooo idiiiot i am don’t understsagdmb

He closes his eyes in shame. When he opens them again, Stuart is staring at him. “What was that all about then, bruv? I’m guessing you and Alex are off, yeah?”

Callum doesn’t actually know if that’s true. In a way, it would make life easier, but Alex had said he would call so there’s probably still a discussion to be had, one way or the other. Callum’s still not sure what he would say if Alex asked him to try and make a go of things. He could forget all about Ben and make a new start. If he tried hard enough, he’s sure he could. If he tried harder still.

“We’re…I dunno,” he admits.

“But you had a row, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you do?” asks Stuart, head on one side and a wheedling tone to his question.

“Nothin’!” exclaims Callum, immediately regretting his sudden burst of animation as his head pounds again in response. “I didn’t do nothin’. And neither did Alex,” he adds, reflecting that that’s partly the problem.

“Well then, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” says Stuart. “Once you’ve both slept on it, you’ll realise it ain’t the end of the world and sort things out.” He indicates the bottles and cans on the coffee table. “Ain’t worth drinkin’ yerself stupid about, is it?”

If only he knew. Callum’s world is undergoing a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift as he re-appraises what he knows of himself. If that’s not worth a few drinks, then nothing is. In the course of his drinking session last night, he’d begun to re-appraise what he knows about Ben Mitchell, too, but he’s not ready to face up to that yet in the cold light of day.

“Listen,” he says to Stuart, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right. I need to get some sleep. Maybe things’ll look different when I’ve had a bit of kip.”

“Exactly!” says Stuart, looking pleased as punch that Callum’s taking his advice. He shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and screws up the paper bag it came in, throwing it onto the coffee table. “I’ll let you get yer beauty sleep.”

As he crosses to the door to let himself out, still chewing, he says, “He’s a good’un, that Alex. You’d be daft to let him go.”

After he’s gone, Callum takes some painkillers, brushes his teeth and then pulls off his clothes and slides into bed in just his boxers. He pulls the covers up over his head and tries to find oblivion again.

When he wakes a couple of hours later, he’s ravenous. He roots through the kitchen cupboards, but there’s nothing he fancies. He needs to do a big shop at some stage soon. He spots the bacon sandwich Stuart had brought round for him, still in its bag on the coffee table, and pounces on it. It’s gone cold, and a couple of bites in, he throws it to one side in disgust. He’s going to have to go out and get something.

He has a quick shower, careful not to meet his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. He’s trying to keep his head empty of all those thoughts that were invading it last night. He’s adopting his usual tactic of avoidance.

Once dressed, he takes a couple more painkillers, then heads for the caff, but changes direction abruptly when he realises he might bump into people he doesn’t want to see there.

He goes to Tesco instead. He may as well get a few extra bits and pieces while he’s out. The supermarket is noisy and bright, and he wanders around it slowly, focusing hard on functioning like a normal human being.

He’s shoving a few apples in a bag when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see Jay beside him, shopping basket in hand. He doesn’t look happy.

Before Callum can greet him, Jay jumps in with, “What the hell you playin’ at, Cal?”

Callum is taken aback. “What?”

“You slept with Ben!”

“You wanna say that a bit louder, Jay?” exclaims Callum looking nervously around him. An old woman prodding at the melons across the aisle glares at him and sucks her teeth. Callum pretends he hasn’t noticed her.

“Well?” asks Jay, clearly expecting an answer to his statement that seems to have been a question as well.

Callum puts his apples in his basket. “I know, I know! I’ve got a boyfriend.”

"You’ve got a boyfriend?” repeats Jay, looking askance. “THAT’s not the problem here, Cal.”

The old woman steps closer to them and starts prodding at the display of apples.

“Well, it kind of is,” says Callum. “I’ve just cheated on him. And believe me, I feel bad enough about it already, without you givin’ me more grief.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “I ain’t givin’ you grief about cheating on Alex, ya melt!”

The old woman is now staring openly between the two of them and following the conversation with rapt attention, picking up and putting apples back down without even pretending to look at them.

Callum feels like he lost the thread of the conversation about three sentences ago. He throws a helpless look at Jay, who looks even more riled at his response.

“Yer messing Ben around,” he explains. “I was at his earlier. He told me what happened.”

“I didn’t mean to. I know he don’t want me,” says Callum, slumping tiredly against the apple display. “He made that very clear back in prison.” He doesn’t dare look at the old woman to see her reaction to that sentence. “I let me feelin’s get the better of me, and I feel bad about that, I do Jay. I shouldn’ta done it, and I told him that. I’ve got Alex.”

Jay is staring at him as if he’s recently grown a second head. “And Alex is who ya want, is he?”

“Y-yeah.” Callum nods his head firmly to back up his words.

“You sure about that? Cos you look nearly as shit as Ben did.”

“Positive.” In that second, Callum believes what he says. At least, he can make himself believe it, given enough time.

Jay shakes his head despairingly. “Right, well in that case, leave Ben alone. You hear me? Stay well away from him. Make yer choice and stick with it.”

Callum ignores the sudden lurch of his heart at how final that statement sounds. Stay away from Ben. For good.

“Why the sudden concern for Ben?”

“He’s fragile, mate. He can do without you messing him around.”

Callum snorts. “Ben? Fragile? I should hardly think so.”

Jay looks as if he’s going to say more, but he checks himself. “Just – just leave him alone, Cal. Please?” He turns to go, but then turns back to the woman who’s been ear-wigging on their conversation. “An’ I hope you’re gonna buy them apples you’ve just bin feelin’ up.”

And with that he storms off towards the bread section. Callum wills the ground to swallow him up. He gives the old woman an apologetic smile.

He finishes his shopping in even more of a daze than when he went into the supermarket. He feels like he’s missing a piece of the jigsaw here. Jay thinks he’s the bad guy. Well, that’s only what Callum’s concluded about himself, but there’s something more. Why would Jay think Ben needs protecting so much? Why is Ben fragile? It’s the last word Callum would ever use to describe his ex-lover. Ben is many things: difficult, frustrating, a conundrum, but fragile he is not.

At the same time, though, Callum’s heard from Whitney and then Lexi that Ben’s lonely. Is that what Jay means? He’s surrounded by friends and family who all love him and look out for him, though, so how can he be lonely? And why would that ever be Callum’s fault?

He does wonder if he’s been going about this all wrong though. By trying to keep Ben out of his life, he’s only ended up obsessing about him more. It’s like when you try to go on a diet. The more you try to cut out food, the more you keep thinking about it. So maybe, Callum should try a different approach. Maybe he should try to be a friend to Ben. Like Whit said, the more he’s around the man, the more he’ll realise what a tosser he is. That would be the quickest way for him to lose his shine.

It’s all too much to think about on top of everything else Callum’s trying to sort out in his head. He trudges home and heats up some soup for a late lunch. He sees that West Side Story’s playing on the BBC, so he settles down with his bowl and some bread, and watches the first half an hour or so.

He’d tried to watch it when he and Ben were together. Ben had been enraptured, even though it was about the thirteenth time he’d seen it, and Callum had felt bad for not feeling the same levels of appreciation. The fact remains, he is not a ‘musicals’ kind of man, unlike Ben. But isn’t that just another element of the conundrum that makes up Ben Mitchell? His love of musical theatre is another thing that seems to contradict his hardman persona.

The combination of trying to decipher Ben and the relentless singing and dancing on the screen begin to make Callum’s head hurt again, so he switches over to a documentary about whales and spends the rest of the afternoon drifting in and out of a light sleep.

By the time the light is fading outside, he’s distilled his thoughts down to a few key points. One, he is a horrible person who’s used the people around him. Two, he needs to be honest with Alex. Three, Ben had told him he missed him.

At the time, Callum had paid it no heed – we all say stupid things in the throes of passion – but now, having spoken to Jay, and remembered what both Lexi and Whitney had said about Ben, Callum begins to wonder if it’s true. But then why would Ben have done what he did when he was in prison? How could his feelings about Callum have changed so radically?

Eventually, the penny drops. Callum’s done something similar, hasn’t he? He convinced himself he was in love with Alex so that he could be protected against Ben. Well, it stands to reason, Ben’s convinced himself he’s missed Callum to protect himself against his loneliness. The pair of them aren’t so different after all.

Callum’s not sure if he’s had too much sleep today, or if all the thoughts swirling around in his head are making him antsy, but as the evening wears on he feels more and more unsettled. He stares out of the window at about ten o’clock. It looks cold out there. The Square is more or less empty, and there are circles of fog around the street lamps. He can’t stay cooped up in the flat though. He feels like he needs to get out.

He changes into his tracksuit and heads out for a run, thinking maybe it’ll help to clear his head. He loops out onto Victoria Road, taking care not to look across at Ben’s flat, and then comes back through a web of side streets to end up on the other side of the Square. He works himself hard, feeling like he deserves it, and by the time he gets back to the Square he’s worked up a proper sweat.

He crosses to the garden in the middle of the Square and does a few stretching exercises using the gatepost as a support. His phone rings. Taking it out of his tracksuit pocket he sees that it’s a call from Alex. God, does he not need a conversation with him right now! He pockets his phone without answering it and heads through the gate and towards the bench, thinking to do some more strenuous stretches.

It’s not until he’s almost at the bench that he realises he’s not alone. He spots someone in the shadows, and utters an exclamation. “Jesus!”

He peers more closely, and realises who it is he’s nearly tripped over. Ben. The last person he wants to see right now. Or maybe the second last, if you count Alex. “Oh,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Ben shoves his hands into his pockets and his chin into his collar. He nods once, briefly, obviously not feeling talkative.

“I, uh…” Callum points behind himself vaguely. “Uh, fancied a run. Some air.” He chuckles uncomfortably. “Couldn’t settle, for some reason.” He feels like an idiot.

“Yeah,” says Ben. “Same.” He shifts awkwardly. “Well, not the run, obviously.”

Callum smiles uncertainly, and when Ben doesn’t tell him to get lost, perches beside him on the very edge of the bench. They sit in silence for much longer than is comfortable, Callum’s head filled with thoughts of what a bastard he’d been the previous night. The silence drags on and he begins to feel like he should just get up and walk away, but the moment for doing so with any grace has passed. Someone needs to break the silence, and it’s going to have to be him.

“I’m sorry. About last night,” he says, in a rush. “It shouldn’ta happened.” He huffs a humourless laugh. “Don’t know where my head’s bin at, lately.”

“S’alright. You made it clear last night you thought it was a mistake,” says Ben in a flat voice.

Callum nods, unable to gauge what kind of a mood Ben’s in. There was a time, he’d have been able to decipher the exact quality of Ben’s silence, but not anymore. That connection between them’s been well and truly broken.

“What you doin’ out here, anyway?” he asks.

Ben stirs and eventually speaks. “Tryin’ ta work out what I’d say to me dad if I ever met him again. It’s his two-year anniversary tomorrow.”

Callum rubs his hands down his thighs, and pulls at the fingertips of the gloves he’s wearing. “Ah… Sorry. I never did give my condolences.”

Ben shrugs. “One o’ those things, ain’t it? Life, death…sex. No point cryin’ over any of it.” He sounds like he couldn’t care less.

Callum peers at him through the shadow to see if he’s being serious. There is no regret on his face; it’s just a blank.

“You go to his funeral?”

“Nah,” says Ben. “I was a bit tied up at the time.”

“So you ain’t had closure, then,” says Callum, ignoring his attempt at humour. “You ain’t grieved properly.” He peers at Ben through the shadows that are being thrown by the street light outside the garden. He looks annoyed, as if he’s about to tell Callum that it’s none of his business, but then Callum’s phone sounds again, making them both start. He curses to himself. He knows who it’ll be without even looking at the screen. Sure enough, it’s Alex again. He’s nothing if not persistent. Callum shoves it straight back into his tracksuit pocket, where it continues to ring for a while.

“Ain’t you gonna answer that?” asks Ben. “Might be important.”

“Shouldn’t think so,” says Callum, really not wanting to give Ben another opportunity to mock Alex. Being reminded of how annoying Ben can be reminds him of his conclusion from earlier that he probably needs to get closer to him before he can finish off the process of breaking this hold the younger man has on him.

“I, uh…I’ve bin thinking.” He pauses. “I’d like us to be friends,” he says tentatively.

Ben throws his head back and laughs sarcastically, surprising Callum. It was not the reaction he was expecting.

“Oh please, don’t do this Callum. Don’t embarrass us both.”

Callum is bewildered. “I ain’t - ”

“We was never friends, was we? It was always about the sex with us,” says Ben.

“It weren’t,” argues Callum sadly. It became about just sex last night, but before, it had been about comradeship; the two of them against the world. Comradeship and love. “It - ”

“So don’t patronise me by givin’ me some kind of consolation prize,” continues Ben.

“Consolation - ?” repeats Callum. “I don’t understand - ”

“I don’t wanna be your ‘friend’, Cal. I never did.”

And isn’t that the truth? It’s why Ben pushed him away when he went to prison. It’s why Callum felt so shut out, like Ben’s built up a wall around himself that Callum just can’t breach.

They sit in silence again. An awkward silence that neither one can break. It feels like there’s so much hanging between them in that silence: yearning; regret; desperation on Callum’s side, and on Ben’s – what? Indifference, rejection, discomfort that this man he once had a bit of a thing with is still hanging around with a hangdog look on his face. But suddenly, Callum remembers something Jay had said earlier that day. Ben was looking like as shit as Callum that morning when he went to see him. Why would that be, if he felt nothing for Callum anymore?

“You said you’d missed me,” says Callum in a low voice, unable to let it lie. “Last night. You said that.”

The last vestige of an echo of the part of him that has always refused to believe that Ben doesn’t love him propels him to mention it. He feels like a loser, pursuing the point, but then he kissed goodbye to his dignity last night. Ben can’t think any worse of him than he does of himself.

“Yeah, well, I say a lot of things when the sex hormones are running riot,” says Ben.

Callum frowns. “Don’t - ” His phone rings again and he curses under his breath. He pulls it out of his pocket and holds it up to switch the volume off.

Looking across, Ben sees the picture of Alex flashing up on the screen. “Looks like the boyfriend’s keen to get hold of ya,” sneers Ben. “A bit obsessive, ain’t he? But then, if that’s what turns you on…”

No matter what’s going on between Callum and Alex, Ben does not have the right to make fun. He always has to be so scathing about everything. It feels like the moment’s been broken between them now, and Callum is reminded again of how angry Ben makes him.

“Why you always like this?” he demands.

They glare at each other. Ben’s eyes are hard, searching, and Callum can’t bear the scrutiny. He turns his face away.

“You should go home, Cal,” says Ben in a softer voice. “You’ll catch your death out here.”

And there it is again, that indifference. Ben is trying to get rid of him. He’s probably embarrassed that Callum just won’t get the message. The fling that never recognised when he’d out-stayed his welcome.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, frustrated with himself more than anything. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore.”

Another long silence, in which Callum thinks he should just get up and walk away, but he can’t bring himself to do it no matter how desperate it makes him seem, and there’s still that tiny annoying flutter of hope inside him. “You did say it though. You said you missed me. And I bin tryin’ to work it out, but I can’t.”

“Work what out?” asks Ben.

“All those blokes you had in prison. The second you got in there you was just shaggin’ around – and makin’ sure I knew about it too. Even though I’d told ya I’d wait for ya. So why would you miss me now, after all this time?”

He holds his breath waiting for the answer.

Ben sighs. “Because I’m an idiot, mate. I’m a fucked-up mess. But then, you grow up with a dad like Phil, and try turnin’ out any different.”

Hope dies. “Is it cos I’m with Alex now?” asks Callum. It’s the only sense he can make of the situation.

“Somethin’ like that,” says Ben. “Probably.” He huffs a laugh. “You know me, always ready to fuck up your life.”

Callum nods reflectively. “I thought maybe that was it, the Alex thing,” he says sadly, and it’s not until that point that he truly realises Ben is never going to tell him he’s still in love with him.

He stares into space with a furrowed brow, trying to overcome the pain, and then says. “I did grow up with a dad like Phil, you know? Jonno’s not so very different. And I turned out OK.”

“Well, lucky you - ” begins Ben.

“And I don’t think you turned out nearly as bad as you like to tell yourself,” insists Callum, even if his own experience of Ben is less than perfect. “He’s dead now, your dad. You should start sortin’ out all yer feelings about him. You shouldn’t let him be an excuse.”

Ben shakes his head, “So, now who’s telling people what to do?”

“He’s dead, Ben,” says Callum firmly. “He can’t control you anymore. Unless you carry on letting him.”

“Bit too deep for me,” says Ben, standing up abruptly.

And there it is, thinks Callum. I’m an embarrassment to him. He doesn’t want to be around me anymore.

Ben takes a step away, but then stills, his head bowed and his chin on his chest. “And for the record, there weren’t never any blokes. Not when you was still visiting me in prison. I might be an idiot, but I was never unfaithful.”

The words hit Callum with the force of a blow and hope flutters back into life.

Ben walks away.

Chapter 9

Ben was never unfaithful. That one single fact turns everything Callum knows on its head.

He heads back to his flat and takes a long hot shower. After Ben had walked away from him, he’d remained on the bench for a good twenty minutes, turning things over and over in his head, trying to make sense of the last ten years. By the time he got home he was freezing, so he’d peeled off his sweaty clothes and let the hot water of the shower pound down upon him, then padded naked into his bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt and boxers for bed.

He checks his phone one more time before sliding under the duvet, and realises he’s had another missed call from Alex. He gets into bed and taps his chin with his phone, wondering what to do. His brain feels like it’s on overload from all the information he’s processing and the decisions he needs to make.

Eventually, he realises he can’t just stare into space for the rest of his life, and types out a text message. “Can we meet? need to talk 2 u”

It’s a good fifteen minutes before he receives a reply, and then it’s just “Y”.

Even just sending the text makes him feel lighter. He replies, “Thanx. Away from the Square? Café in Truman Road? 4pm tomoz?”

Another delay. Another brief reply. “OK”.

Action taken, he settles down to sleep.

He’s woken the next morning by an incoming text message. He reaches blindly for his phone and blinks the sleep out of his eyes before opening it. It’s from Stuart. “U OK Bruv?”

He types out a quick reply “Getting there,” and heads to the kitchen to get a cup of tea.

Another text message pings in. Stuart: “Good. A is a good bloke. U no ur doing the right thing bruv!”

Callum shuts his eyes for a second. He’s still not decided exactly what he is doing.

He spends the morning catching up with his washing and cleaning the flat. He finds keeping himself busy helps to take his mind off everything. He fixes himself a decent lunch, singing along tunelessly to Years and Years while he peels some vegetables, and then it’s quarter to three and he needs to think about getting ready for his meeting. His mind seems remarkably calm today after the turmoil of yesterday, but he guesses that would be a lot to do with the lack of alcohol in his system.

The café in Truman Road is only two tube stops away, but he finds he’s set off far too early. It’s only ten past three as he’s approaching the tube station, so he decides he’ll get there early and go for a walk beforehand to calm his nerves. As he’s buying his ticket though, he feels a tug on his jacket, and Lexi is there, smiling at him and drawing him into a hug.

“Lex! What you doin’ here?”

“Waiting for Ewan,” she says. “I’m a bit early.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s Ewan?”

She looks shy. “Mate.”

“A mate,” Callum teases. “A mate who’s a boy, am I right?”

She tips her chin at him, her action so reminiscent of Ben that it leaves him breathless for a second. “Well I don’t know many girls called Ewan, d’you Cal?” They grin at each other.

“So, a friend called Ewan. Who’s a boy,” says Callum. “Almost like a…boyfriend, then, yeah?”

Lexi rolls her eyes and pushes at his shoulder. “He’s a boy and he’s a friend, yeah. We’re not calling it anything else.”

Callum smiles fondly at her. “You kids. You’re so modern, ain’t ya?”

“What you doin’ here, anyway?” Lexi asks, obviously trying to distract him from any more prying.

“Going to meet Alex,” he says, sobering immediately. He’s still not sure what he wants to happen there. “I’m a bit early too. You wanna get a drink or somethin’ while you wait?”

“Yeah, go on then. Ewan said he’d be here about half-three, quarter to four.”

Lexi mock-glares at the grin that spreads across his face again. “Blimey,” says Callum. “You are early then, ain’t ya Lex? You keen or somethin’?”

They head across to the refreshment stand at the side of the station, and Callum buys a coffee for himself and a coke for Lexi. They’re only a couple of weeks away from Christmas now, and the woman serving behind the counter wears a santa hat to go with her grim expression. Callum supposes it’s the seasonal version of TfL customer service.

“So, watcha been up to?” he asks when they’re settled at the least-draughty of the two tables on the edge of the tiny station concourse.

Lexi shrugs. “Not a lot. Dad’s just been round for Sunday lunch. He’s still there but I came out early. They all keep teasing me about Ewan.”

“Parents, eh?” says Callum in sympathy, choosing to ignore the mention of Ben. He grins at the outraged look she gives him, after the earlier ribbing he’d given her.

“You grown-ups, you’re all embarrassing about that kind of thing,” she says accusingly.

“That’s ‘cos all the romance has gone out of our lives,” says Callum. “We have to live through you kids. You’re the only hope we’ve got.”

She looks at him appraisingly, and he’s struck by how grown-up she seems these days. He gets the impression there’s something she wants to say, but after a few seconds she looks away and returns to her original theme.

“I think dad’s gonna scare Ewan off, in any case. He wants to give ‘im the third degree when I get ‘im home.”

“Quite right too! I expect he only wants the best for ya, Lex.” Callum smiles at Ben being fiercely over-protective of Lexi. It’s one of the few ways in which he’s always shown his caring side. His love for Lexi has never wavered, after a rocky start when she was much smaller. Callum’s reminded again of the many contradictions he’s still trying to work out about Ben.

He stares into the distance for a moment, and takes a sip of his coffee. He thinks carefully about how to phrase the question he wants to put to Lexi, who’s texting out a quick message to someone on her phone. From the half-smile on her face, he guesses it must be the mysterious Ewan.

“Lex, can I ask you somethin’?” he says eventually. She glances up and nods, her attention still half on her phone.

“Jay, uh…Jay seems quite worried… no no, not worried. He, uh…well, he seems quite protective of yer dad. Why would that be, d’ya think? I mean, is there somethin’ I’m missin’?”

Lexi puts her phone down on the table and looks him in the eye. She seems to be searching for a sign of something from him. After a second or two, a faint frown passes across her face. “You don’t know, do ya?”

Callum’s heart goes cold, and he catches his breath. “Don’t know what? Is he ill or something?”

“Dad? No, course not.”

Callum begins to breath again. Thank god!

“He, uh…there was something though.” Lexi looks reluctant to say any more. She takes a breath and then looks more resolute. “Something happened when dad was in prison. Nobody really talks about it – they, uh… they don’t even know I know about it. But I know mum and Jay are still worried about him.”

“What?” asks Callum. He frowns and sits forward. “What happened, Lex?”

She’s still looking like she’d rather not tell him. He sees her eyes water, and she takes another deep breath.

“Please tell me, Lex.”

Lexi’s phone announces an incoming text, but she ignores it, and clasps her hands tight on the table in front of herself.

“Dad…He, uh. Well, he tried to kill himself.”

Callum rocks backwards in his seat, feeling like someone’s just thumped him in the chest. She can’t have just said what he thought he’d heard.

Lexi glances up at Callum and looks quickly away again, as if she can’t bear to see the shock on his face.

“I think he nearly succeeded, too,” she whispers. “From what I heard Jay say to Nana Kathy.”

Callum feels like his limbs have turned to jelly. He rubs a shaking hand over his face. Oh god! If he’d lost Ben, what would he have -?

“Wh- when did this happen?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly.

“Only a couple of months after he’d gone in there. Two, three months? I dunno exactly.”

About the same time that Ben had sent Callum away then. Why the hell hadn’t Callum seen that there was something wrong? Why hadn’t he fought harder to stay in contact with the younger man?

“But why -? Why would he do that?”

Lex shakes her head. “I dunno. I’ve never talked to anyone about it. I only told him yesterday that I knew.”

He frowns at her. “When did you find out, then?”

“When it happened, pretty much.” She gives him a faint, brave smile, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Jesus, Lexi! You was only a little kid when it happened! You’ve carried that with ya all this time?”

She nods briefly, and he gets up, his legs shaking, and rounds the table to give her a hug. She stands up too, and they cling to each other tight, Callum rubbing her back but gaining as much comfort from his actions as he hopes he’s giving her. She feels tiny in his arms, like she’d break if he squeezed too hard.

“He’s so lonely, Cal,” says Lexi with a sob. “I worry about him so much. It’s like he’s given up or sommat.”

“Oh Lex, you don’t have to worry about him,” says Callum, nearly in tears himself. “You’re still just a kid, you shouldn’t have all that responsibility. He’s got yer mum and Jay – and Kathy. They can look after ‘im.”

“But why not you?” asks Lexi. “Why can’t you look after him like you used to?”

Callum takes a deep breath. “Cos he don’t want me to, Lex. Not anymore.” He can’t help the way his voice trails off sadly.

She presses her face into his shoulder, and her next words are muffled. “You don’t know that for sure. You could try, see what he says.”

“I know what he’d say,” says Callum. He steps back and holds her at arm’s length, looking into her eyes. “He don’t want me anymore, Lex.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do. I wish it was different, but there we are.”

Callum is surprised at the ease with which those words came out of his mouth. He supposes it’s always been true, deep down. All the anger he’d felt at Ben stems from that one simple truth. He wishes things were different. He wants Ben to want him still, and he doesn’t.

Lexi’s phone pings again with another text message. She steps back from Callum and picks it up.

“Ewan’s just gettin’ off his train. He’ll be here soon.” She sniffs and rubs at her face. “Oh god, is me mascara smudged?”

Callum smiles at her in spite of the pain he’s feeling. “Nah, ya look beautiful, darlin’. You gonna be OK?”

She tries out a watery smile. “Yeah.”

“Listen, you can talk to me anytime, OK? You feelin’ upset about yer dad, you come and find me, alright?”

She nods.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She wipes her eyes again, and gives him a meaningful look. “You should probably be gettin’ on, shouldn’t ya?”

He’s confused for a second, and then the penny drops. “Oh! I get it. You want me out the way before Ewan who’s a friend and a boy gets here, am I right?”

She laughs through her tears. “Sommat like that.”

“Don’t want an old fogey like me embarrassing ya, yeah? Alright, I’m on me way. I’m gonna text ya tonight though, make sure you’re OK, alright?”

She gives him another hug, holding him tight. “Love ya Cal.”

“Love ya too, darlin’,” replies Callum, reluctant to leave her on her own.

Eventually he steps away and makes his way to the top of the stairs that lead to his platform. He turns just before he starts to descend, and unnoticed, watches Lexi take a few deep breaths. He sees a boy detach himself from the crowd of people heading upstairs from the other platform. He crosses to Lexi and gives her a hug and a quick kiss, and Callum’s pleased to see the way Lexi’s face lights up.

The boy is tall and dark-haired. The kind of kid Callum would have thought was fit when he was that age, if he’d allowed himself to have those kinds of thoughts back then.

He’s smiling to himself as he heads for his platform, but the smile soon fades as he thinks about what Lexi told him, and he stumbles slightly as he descends the stairs, having to grab onto the rail and still feeling weak and shaky from the shock. No wonder Jay’s so protective of Ben. They must clearly think he’s not out of the woods yet, if they’re all still so worried about him.

Callum can’t help but think there must be a link between Ben sending him away and Ben doing…what he did. He’s not egotistical enough to think Ben did it because he was heartbroken about seeing the last of Callum, but he’s sure there must have been a link between his actions.

When Callum’s tube arrives, he bags himself a seat, even though he’s only going two stops, and tries to work it all out, staring into space with a frown on his face. He thinks he’s beginning to see the bigger picture. What he sees has him turning his opinion of Ben on its head again.

He can only think that Ben sending him away like he did; making sure he wouldn’t try to come back to him with the way he told him all those stories about the men he’d been with; well, it could only have been to protect Callum, couldn’t it? Especially if Ben had already planned what he was going to do.

Callum shudders at the thought.

If he had done it to protect Callum though, that could only have come from a place of love. Which means that everything Callum’s told himself about Ben Mitchell in the intervening years is wrong.

He’s so deep in thought he almost misses his stop, only looking up at the last minute and dashing for the door, squeezing himself through as it’s closing. He’s been so distracted, he’s barely given a thought to his meeting with Alex, but by the time he’s ascending the stairs, he knows what he needs to do.

He gets to the café before Alex and orders himself another coffee, which he allows to grow cold in front of him while he replays the whole conversation with Lexi over in his head, toying idly with the spoon in his saucer.

He’s so preoccupied he doesn’t even realise Alex has arrived until he’s standing in front of him. He looks sulky.

“Uh, sorry,” says Callum. “I was miles away. Can I get you a drink?”

“I can get my own,” says Alex. “You want anything else?”

“No, no.”

While Alex is getting his drink, Callum tries to marshall his thoughts so he can concentrate on the conversation they’re going to have. It’s the least he owes Alex.

“So…” says Alex, when he returns with a coffee. He looks at Callum expectantly.

Callum returns his gaze. “So…” he echoes.

“How are you?”

Callum sighs. “Not sure.”

“What did you want to meet about?”

Callum huffs in disbelief. “Us. Of course.”

“Is there an ‘us’?” asks Alex.

When Callum doesn’t respond immediately, he starts to talk. “OK. So, the other night you asked me how I could live like this. Being ‘in the closet’ as you see it. You implied I was only living half a life or something, but you’re doing the same, Callum.” He sits forward. “As long as Ben Mitchell’s got some kind of a hold over you, you’ll never have a life. Why don’t you try to live a whole life, just like you want me to? Don’t you want that?”

Callum feels tears pricking at his eyes. He blinks them away. Alex is right, of course he is. “Course I do,” he says. It’s what he’s wanted for the last ten years. It’s what he’s only now beginning to wonder if he could have.

“Well then,” says Alex, sitting back. He looks nervous.

Callum scrubs a hand over his face, and tries to put what he’s thinking into words; tries to banish all thoughts of Ben for the rest of this conversation. “I do want a whole life, Alex.” He glances up at the other man, and then quickly focusses on the table, and says quietly, “But I don’t think I can have that with you.”

Alex is silent. Callum doesn’t dare look up at him again. He rubs at a coffee stain on the table instead. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I know I did. You’re right – I never gave my all to this relationship, but not cos I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t, Alex. I didn’t even realise what I was doing, but - ”

“So, you’re going back to that psychopath?” asks Alex in a brittle voice.

Callum shakes his head, partly in exasperation, partly in confusion. “No, I – I dunno. I don’t know what’s gonna happen.” He looks up at Alex and fixes him in his gaze. “But this ain’t about Ben. Even if Ben weren’t in the picture, I would not be able to have the relationship I want with you, and I’m sorry. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true.”

“Because for whatever reason, you can’t accept the love I have for you,” says Alex sadly.

Callum shrugs. He guesses Alex is right.

“Is this about me not coming out to my parents?” asks Alex.

“No!” exclaims Callum. “This ain’t about you. It’s about me. This is not what I want. And I know I should have worked that out sooner, but I’m sorry, I ain’t great at sortin’ out me feelin’s. It takes me a bit of time. All I know is, I’m sorry I’ve hurt ya, and I’m sorry you somehow got caught up in this mess with Ben.” He lays a hand on Alex’s arm. “You’re a good bloke, Alex. We just ain’t right together, and most of that’s down to me. It’s not fair of me, expecting you to change to suit what I want. So, I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me some day.”

Alex grimaces and shrugs Callum’s hand off his arm. “You know, he came to see me at the gym one time. Just after Lexi’s party.”

“Who? Ben?”

“Yeah. Telling me all sorts of stories. Pumping me for information about you.” Alex laughs mirthlessly. “I didn’t see it at the time, but I get it now. He was jealous.”

Callum can’t reconcile the Ben of that time with a Ben who might have been jealous of Alex. He was distant, not the slightest bit interested in Callum then. He laughs dismissively. “I can’t imagine - ”

“He was jealous,” insists Alex. He huffs another mirthless laugh. “I’ve been stuck in the middle of whatever twisted relationship you two have since the very first day he walked back into Albert Square. Probably even before that, and I didn’t even realise it.”

He stands up. “He’s as hung up on you as you are on him. And if you ask me, it’s all a bit sick.” He rummages in his pocket and throws a tip down on the table. “I’m well out of it.” Then he walks away.

Callum could try to call him back. He could try to apologise again, but he doesn’t. He simply sits there nursing his cold coffee, blindsided by everything that’s happened in the last couple of days, until the café owner tells him they’re closing and he’ll have to make himself scarce.

He walks all the way home, wanting the exercise and the air. He feels numb. His brain’s on overload and he can’t process any feelings right now. The only vague sensation he has is relief, like a load’s been lifted.

He stops in at the Chinese when he gets back to the Square, then heads back to his flat. Over chicken fried rice, he replies to a message from Stuart asking if he’s sorted things with Alex. Just the one word: ‘yes’. Maybe not in the way Stuart means, but he’ll cross that bridge when he needs to.

Then he composes three text messages:

To Lexi: You OK sweetheart? Have a good time with Ewan who’s a friend and a boy? 😊xx

To Gerry Boyd: Evening Gerry. Been thinking about that job you mentioned. Can we have a chat? Definitely interested. Callum.

To Ben: Hope you’ve had a good day x

The third message he deletes before sending.

Chapter 10

Callum has a series of long shifts for the following week, so he couldn’t do anything about Ben even if he knew what to do. He also feels bad about moving on from Alex so quickly. Moving on…moving back. Whatever. It’s strange, but he doesn’t feel particularly upset at losing him, just an uneasy sense of discomfort when he thinks about how he used him, however unintentionally.

He’s second-guessing himself about the Ben situation all week, and he wanders around on patrol in a daze. If ever the criminal underclass of Walford wanted to pull off a daring heist, this would be their time to do it – he doubts he’d even notice.

So, he knows Ben is lonely; he knows he was jealous at some point after leaving prison. He knows he tried to destroy Callum’s feelings for him when he was inside so that the hurt would be less when he did…what he tried to do.

None of that means Ben still wants Callum now though. Their conversation on the bench in the Square left Callum with exactly the opposite impression, so he’s not about to call round at Ben’s and declare his undying love, for fear of being sent away with the sound of Ben’s sarcastic laughter ringing in his ears.

The way Callum sees it, if Ben still wanted Callum, he’d have done his utmost to split up Callum and Alex. The old Ben was positively Machiavellian in his attempts to get what he wanted, so Callum can only conclude he’s not interested anymore. Unless… What if Ben hasn’t tried to make a play for him precisely because he thinks Callum is better off without him? He thought he’d be better off without him when he sent him away from prison, so why not now?

To be honest, it’s all driving Callum mad, and he’s no nearer working it all out. He’s scared of jumping to the wrong conclusions and making a colossal fool of himself.

He’s out on foot patrol in the Square mid-week when he sees Ben crossing from the car lot to the salon. Callum slows down to watch him. His head is down and his shoulders hunched. He looks…depressed.

Callum remembers their discussion about Phil’s death. It can’t help Ben’s mental state that he hasn’t processed it yet; he’s never going to be able to move on if he doesn’t. Callum knows what screwed-up feelings he’s going to have when Jonno passes; he knows Ben’s relationship with Phil was even more complex, but Ben spoke as if he didn’t care one way or the other. He’s shut it all out, and that can’t be healthy for anyone.

Fathers and sons. Such complicated relationships. Callum’s only way of dealing with his is to keep him at arm’s length and expect less than nothing from him. That way he’s never disappointed.

It helps that he and Stuart both had the same relationship with Jonno, so they’ve got some mutual support. Ben’s relationship with Phil, on the other hand, was totally different to that of Phil’s other kids, so they wouldn’t recognise the trauma he’s suffered. Is still suffering, Callum’s willing to bet. There’s no one in his family who could understand or sympathise, but Callum could. If Ben would let him.

His musings are cut short by somebody bowling into him. He steps back sharpish and catches the kid by the elbows to slow him down.

“Oi, watch it!”

It’s Mikey Blunt. “Sorry PC Callway,” he puffs. “In a hurry.”

“Oh yeah? Who you runnin’ away from?”

The kid doubles over with his hands on his knees, coughing and trying to catch his breath, and Callum retains a precautionary hand on his shoulder. He guesses the kid probably smokes about thirty a day. He can’t remember a time when he hasn’t seen him with a rollie in his hand.

“Not runnin’ away,” splutters Mikey, from somewhere near Callum’s waist. “Runnin’ to. There’s a difference, PC Callway.”

“Oh yeah? What you runnin’ to, then?”

“Remember that bird I was after?”

Callum is amused. “What a romantic way of puttin’ it! Don’t tell me you pulled?”

“Nah, not her. Got her mate though.” Mikey rights himself and gives Callum a thumbs up. “Got the consolation prize!”

“Charming!” says Callum.

“Just meeting up with ‘er now, ‘n I’m late, so if you ain’t gonna arrest me, let go of me arm.”

“Fair enough,” says Callum, letting go of him.

Mikey runs off, leaving a haze of cheap aftershave in his wake that could fell an elephant at a hundred paces, and Callum watches him go with something that feels dangerously close to fondness. The kid’s not so bad really. It’s just a shame he grew up with the father he’s got.

What was that quote Callum was fishing for the last time he crossed paths with Mikey? Something about the sins of the fathers? After his recent train of thought, he makes the connection with Ben. He’s had the sins of his father visited on him too, hasn’t he? Callum wonders why he was so quick to judge Ben’s actions in a negative light when he should have recognised that Ben’s as much a victim of his upbringing as Mikey is.

He takes another couple of steps and then stops short.

Consolation.

Mickey had said he’d got the consolation prize. That’s exactly what Ben had said, too. “Don’t patronise me by givin’ me some kind of consolation prize,” he’d said. Then, “I don’t wanna be your friend, Cal. I never did.”

Callum had got it all wrong. He’d been so sure Ben was over him after their conversation on the bench that night. He just hadn’t listened properly. It might have been inadvertent, but Ben had been telling him how he felt about him, if he cared to hear what he was saying. Ben is still in love with him!

A wide smile breaks over Callum’s face, and by rights he thinks there should be a chorus singing and dancing in formation around him as he crosses the Square, clicking his fingers and swaying his hips. It might be nearly Christmas, but he fancies the air’s just got warmer and the sun’s come out. There’s a sudden spring in his step, and he heads out to Victoria Road smiling and nodding at the people he encounters on the way. He wants to shout it out to everyone he passes: I am loved! There’s a man out there who’s in love with me!

He stops on the corner to help an old lady across the road, giving her his arm and waving happily at the drivers who stop for them to cross. He’s brought up short when he realises it’s the woman who was eavesdropping on his conversation with Jay in the supermarket.

“You’re a polis-man?” she says as he deposits her on the far side of the road.

"I am,” he says cheerily.

She sucks at her teeth again and wanders off up the road. “Then god help us all.”

He can’t find it in himself to be offended. He grins and shouts after her, “I hope you bought them apples you was feelin’ up!”

He needs a strategy. He comes up with one that night in bed. He plans two meetings for later that week. One with Gerry Boyd, who’d been back in touch about the job offer, and the other with Kathy Beale.

When he goes to see her, Kathy is delighted to hear what he’s plotting, and wastes no time in getting him what he wants.

Which is why, a few days later, he’s wandering through a cemetery with a makeshift map drawn on a piece of lined A4 paper, hoping against hope that he can find what he’s looking for and that this whole trip hasn’t been a waste of time. Ben is trailing after him warily, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He’d complained and questioned Callum throughout the bus journey to this leafy part of Walford, but Callum had refused to give anything away, apart from admitting that he and Alex were on a break in response to a sardonic question from Ben. He knew Ben would get right off at the next stop if he got wind of what Callum had planned for him. It had taken some effort to get him to come along at all.

He consults his map one more time and sets off purposefully down a walkway between two rows of gravestones, stopping just before the far end. “Here he is,” he calls back to Ben.

Ben approaches slowly, stopping beside Callum and giving him a disapproving look before glancing down at the stone.

The inscription is simple and plain:

‘Philip Robert Mitchell

b 20 January 1961, d 28 November 2027

Sadly missed’

Callum senses Ben stiffen beside him. “You OK?” he asks, hovering uncertainly at his shoulder. When Ben doesn’t reply, Callum places his hand lightly on his shoulder. “He can’t hurt you anymore, Ben. And you’ve gotta decide if you’re gonna let what he did rule the rest of your life.” He squeezes Ben’s shoulder, hoping he hasn’t entirely misjudged this, and then walks away and sits on a bench at the side of the cemetery under a vast oak tree. He watches quietly as Ben wipes away tears and then lays his hand on the gravestone, head bowed.

Callum is nervous. This could be make or break. He thinks he’s worked out what’s been going on for Ben, but there’s still a doubt. Still a sneaking suspicion that he’s got completely the wrong end of the stick. Whatever happens, he will defend to the death his decision to bring Ben here to make his peace with Phil Mitchell.

He glances up as Ben wanders over and sits down beside him, but doesn’t speak. They sit in silence.

Ben wipes his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. “Why did ya do this?” he asks eventually. “Bringin’ me here? I mean, I ain’t nothin’ to you anymore, am I? Why would you bother?”

His defeated tone hurts Callum even more than his words. He thinks about what he should say. He wants to make Ben feel better. He wants him to understand.

He starts to talk in a low, quiet voice, piecing together what he’s saying as the words come out of his mouth. “Bein’ a policeman, I’ve seen all sorts. Some things you would not believe. But what I’ve learned is that people’re basically good. Or tryin’ to be, at least.”

He glances across at Ben, who’s staring into the distance, listening hard. “They’re just copin’ with what life throws at ‘em, and sometimes they get it wrong. They lash out or they make the wrong decisions. And all around them there are people who get hurt.” He shrugs. “But they still forgive ‘em. They still love ‘em."

Beside him, Ben sniffs, and Callum thinks he might be crying again. He yearns to reach out and put an arm around him, but he doesn’t think he has that right anymore. Not yet, at least.

“Sometimes people love us in the only way they can,” he continues. “Not in the way we need ‘em to. Like yer dad.” He shifts uncomfortably. He’s getting to the heart of what he wants to say. He looks right at Ben, letting him know that he’s worked it out. “Like you, an’ all.”

Ben wipes his eyes again, and peers back at him with a furrowed brow. Callum shrinks back a little at the intense look Ben is giving him. “I, uh, I saw Lex last week. She told me what you did. In prison.” He sees Ben’s eyes glaze over, as if he’s back there again, reliving it all. “All that stuff you made up about those men you were goin’ with, you did that to protect me, didn’t ya? You thought I’d be better off without ya.”

He can see an internal struggle going on in Ben, conflicting emotions chasing over his face. Eventually, the younger man gives the briefest of nods.

Callum lets out a long breath. “And you hurt yerself in the process.”

It’s as if his words release the floodgates. Ben’s lips tremble and his forehead creases, and he gulps back a sob, but then he can’t keep it in any longer. He cries with the full force of all the emotions he’s been holding at bay for the last ten years.

Callum can’t help himself anymore. He reaches out and pulls him into his side, and holds him through it all. Ben wraps his arms around his waist and huddles into him. He’s warm and solid, and Callum feels how perfectly they fit together. He mourns the years they’ve wasted, not having this.

When Ben’s eventually cried himself out, Callum says, “D’you know what the saddest thing in the world is?” He runs his hand soothingly up and down Ben’s side. Ben sniffs, and shakes his head against his chest.

“This is gonna sound stupid,” says Callum with an embarrassed half-laugh. “An’ I’ll probably deny ever sayin’ it if you mention it to anyone else.” He shifts slightly, tightening his grip on Ben. “I think the saddest thing in the world is that we’ve all got so much love in us to give, and we can’t give it away. People won’t accept it cos they think they don’t deserve it. And then it goes bad inside us, makes us sad. Or bitter.” He laughs again. “I dunno. That’s what I think, anyway.”

Ben twists round to look up at him. “You ain’t bitter.”

“I might be a bit sad, though.”

He strokes fleetingly at Ben’s cheek with a soft hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Ben moves away from him, as if the touch of Callum’s hand has reminded him that they don’t belong together, and Callum feels the loss of him all over again. “S’alright,” he says. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He avoids Callum’s gaze. “I’m sorry you an’ Alex are havin’ problems.”

Callum scrutinises his face. “Are ya?”

“Course,” says Ben. “He…he suits ya. Much better than I ever did.”

Callum frowns. He can’t work out if Ben really believes that, or if he’s just saying what he thinks he should say. “I ain’t so sure.”

Ben scoffs. “A policeman and an ex-con? We was never a good match, was we? Weren’t ever really gonna work.”

“Maybe not on paper,” says Callum. “We didn’t do too bad though, did we?”

“Are you includin’ the whole ‘going to prison for killin’ someone’ thing in your assessment, or you pretendin’ that didn’t happen?” asks Ben.

Callum considers. Maybe this is the time to lay his cards out. “What if I weren’t a policeman?” he ventures.

“If you hadn’t been a copper, then maybe, yeah,” says Ben. “But that’s why I did what I did when I went inside. I didn’t want you to suffer cos of what I’d done. That and the fact that I didn’t want you to waste ten years.”

“That weren’t your decision to make!” exclaims Callum, suddenly angry, but seeing Ben before him, still broken from everything he’s been through, reminds him that he isn’t the one who’s suffered the most from Ben’s actions. “But I get why you did it,” he adds in a softer voice.

He turns to fully face Ben and takes a deep breath. Please god don’t let him have got this wrong. “I don’t mean then, though. What if I weren’t a copper now?”

Ben laughs, but the laughter fades as he sees that Callum’s serious. “What else would ya do? You couldn’t go back to the funeral parlour, you’d hate it. You love bein’ a copper.”

“Well yeah, but there’s other things I think I’d love more. I’ve already got a plan.” Callum is overtaken again with excitement at his prospects. “I’ve got a mate from the Force took early retirement last year. He’s just settin’ up a project for ex-offenders. It’s gonna be on the Square.”

“Hold on, hold on. You mean that cycle project?” asks Ben.

“Yeah! I spoke to me mate, and he said there’s a job there if I want it. I’d need to do a bit more trainin’, get a youth work qualification, but I can do that alongside workin’ there in another capacity, just until I’m cleared to work with the kids. What d’ya think?”

Ben’s face lights up for a second, but then he covers it with a frown, as if he’s been caught out hoping. “Why you askin’ me? It’s not my decision. I mean, it’s great that you wanna do it, but shouldn’t you be talking to Alex about it, not me? How long you two gonna be on a break for, anyway?”

He avoids eye contact with Callum, staring off across the cemetery again. Callum doesn’t say anything for a while, waiting to see if Ben’s going to put two and two together. He waits. And waits.

Eventually, when Ben turns to look at him, wondering why he hasn’t replied, he realises he’s going to have to make everything clear.

“Indefinitely,” he says, his eyes trying to convey a message. When Ben doesn’t pick up on it, he huffs. He feels giddy at what he’s about to reveal. “Permanently. I’m a free agent again.” He swallows his nerves and nudges Ben with his elbow. “Just sayin’… You know, in case anyone else wanted to maybe ask me out.”

He doesn’t know what he thought would happen. What he didn’t expect was for Ben to look so conflicted. He’d thought it would be an easy decision for him to make. Callum has got it wrong. He’s such an idiot. “Don’t matter,” he says, crestfallen and feeling stupid. “It was just a thought.”

He makes to stand up, but Ben puts a hand on his arm to keep him in place. “Cal, wait. It ain’t that easy for me.” He takes a deep breath. “When we got together, I felt like I’d finally worked life out. I’d hit the jackpot. Amazing bloke who for some reason seemed to love me back; finally goin’ legit; a whole world ahead of me. And then I did that one stupid thing and it all got ripped away from me.”

He rubs a hand over his face wearily. “I couldn’t stand it if that happened again. It nearly broke me last time.”

“So you’d rather not try?” asks Callum. “You’d rather go without, than chance it? I mean, let’s face it, you ain’t plannin’ to kill anyone else, are ya?”

“Course not,” says Ben, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t ‘plan’ the last one.”

He shifts closer to Callum, an earnest look on his face. “But I ain’t easy, am I? I’ll piss you off; I’ll hurt ya. I’ll try and love ya but I’ll most probably get it wrong, mess it up. I will be awkward and stroppy and stupid - ”

“And I’ll take it,” says Callum, feeling somehow like Ben’s just described his perfect man. “I’ll take it all.” He puts a hand on Ben’s arm. “Don’t forget I know ya. I know what I’ll be gettin’ myself into.”

He feels again something of the shock he’d felt when Lexi told him what Ben had done in prison, and a wave of fear grips him. “I don’t know what I’da done if I’d lost you.”

Ben is still looking unsure. “I don’t wanna make you do something you’ll regret,” he says slowly. “So… you make your decision about your job, and we’ll wait til the new year and see what’s what then.”

Callum’s heart gives a little leap. “But it ain’t a no?”

Maybe it’s an ‘I want to let you down gently,’ a voice inside him whispers.

“It ain’t a no,” Ben assures him. Then there’s a brief flash of the old Ben. “Although you’re gonna havta work on your idea of a decent first date.” He slaps Callum’s thigh softly. “Don’t think much of this one.”

Callum grins “Who said this was a date?”

They both smile in remembrance of the same comment from Ben when they were first getting together, and Callum can’t help himself. He leans over and gives Ben the tiniest, most chaste kiss on his cheek. His heart melts at the bashful smile that hovers over Ben’s face.

They sit together in companionable silence for a few more minutes, not feeling the need to talk or touch. Just happy to be together again.

Eventually, as they walk away, Callum can’t help but feel he’s laid something to rest in that cemetery as much as Ben has. All the hurt and anger and confusion of the last ten years is buried and mourned, and he’s come to terms with it. He leaves it there in the cemetery and walks away.

He wakes half hard, his dream fading slowly as the sounds of the Square take over. He was in a park again. The park. A man was on his knees in front of him. He felt like he was at the beginning of an exciting adventure, one that would take him through all the years of his life. He’d never felt so alive.

He blinks the images out of his head, and turns over in bed. It surprises him a little, seeing a dark head on the pillow next to his; feeling a warm, naked body under the covers next to his own. It surprises him only because he’d thought he would never experience this again. It feels so right.

Ben shifts in his sleep and snuggles in closer to him, then seemingly realises where he is. He raises his head and smiles sleepily at Callum, his eyes unfocused without his contacts. “Mornin’.” His voice is rough with sleep.

“Mornin’,” answers Callum. “You OK?”

His body is aching in all the right ways from the hours they’d spent the previous day and night reacquainting themselves with each other.

Ben wriggles further up the bed so that he can rest his head on Callum’s shoulder. “Never better. You?”

“Same.”

“Not havin’ second thoughts?”

“Never!”

“Good,” says Ben, wriggling around a little more, trying to get comfortable. “Cos you're stuck with me now." He's silent for a while, and then murmurs, "I thought we was gonna wait til the new year, though.”

“Yeah," says Callum, rolling over to throw his arm around Ben's waist. "But like I said yesterday, we’ve already wasted too much time, ain’t we?”

Ben raises his head to peer into Callum’s eyes. “I know what it is, you don’t have to hide it.”

“What?” asks Callum, feeling like Ben's caught him out somehow.

“You can’t keep away from me, can ya? I’m irresistible.”

Callum grins. “Somethin’ like that.”


End file.
